The colour came rushing to his face. And to hers.
He saw, through a blinding mist, that there were tears in her eyes.
'Ci—Cicely, you don't, you can't mean—that you—too....'
'Please, Henry! Not here! Not now!'
They glanced up the street; and down.
'Come this afternoon,' she breathed.
'They'll be there.'
'Come early. Two o'clock. We'll take a walk.'
'Oh—Cicely!'
'Henry!'