He did not answer, and she laughed merrily.
"What a girl you are for laughing," he said. "It may be very laughable to you that I'm going away——"
"But isn't it to you? Eh?" she said, as fast as a flash of quicksilver.
He had no answer, so he tried to laugh also, and to take her hand at the same time. She was too quick for him, and swung half a pace aside. They were then at the gate of Lague, where long years before Stephen Orry first saw the light through the elms. A late rook was still cawing overhead; the heifers had gone on towards the courtyard.
"You must go now, so good-bye," she said, softly.
"Greeba," he said.
"Well? Only speak lower," she whispered, coming closer. He could feel the warm glow of her body.
"Do you think, now, if I should be a long time away—years it may be, perhaps many years—we should ever forget each other, we two?"
"Forget? No, not to say forget, you know," she answered.
"But should we remember?"