"There's a telephone call for you. They've been trying to get you for an hour."
He went in at once, and coming out told Anne good-night. "Thank you for a happy afternoon," he said.
But she missed something in his voice, something that had been there when they had walked in the wood.
She watched him as he went away, square-shouldered and strong on his big white horse. She had a troubled sense that things had in some fateful and tragic way gone wrong with her afternoon, but it was not yet given to her to know that young Richard on his big white horse was riding out of her life.
It was after supper that Geoffrey asked her to go out on the river with him.
"Not to-night. I'm tired."
"Just a little minute, Mistress Anne. To see the moon come up over the island. Please." So she consented.
Helping her into the boat, Geoffrey's hands were shaking. The boat swept out from the pier in a wide curve, and he drew a long breath. He had her now—it would be a great adventure—like a book—better than any book.
Primitive man in prehistoric days carried his woman off captive under his arm. Geoffrey, pursuing modern methods, had borrowed Brinsley's boat. A rug was folded innocently on the cushions; in a snug little cupboard under the stern seat were certain supplies—a great adventure, surely!
And now the boat was under the bridge; the signal lights showed red and green. Then as they slipped around the first island there was only the silver of the moonshine spread out over the waters.