‘Merci, monsieur.’
‘By Jove! talking about to-morrow reminds me of something I had nearly forgotten.’ He started to his feet and pulled out his watch. ‘Now that you have made me the happiest fellow in England, I must leave you for a little while.’
‘Leave me?’ she exclaimed as she rose to her feet.
‘Only for a few hours. On my arrival here I found a telegram from my brother. He has been staying at Derwent Hall, near Grasmere. To-morrow he starts for Ireland. We have some family matters to arrange. If I don’t see him to-night, we may not meet again for months. I’m sorry at having to go, but you won’t mind my leaving you till to-morrow?’
‘Can you ask? Do you know, I’m rather glad you are going.’
‘Why glad?’
‘Because it will give me time to think over all that has happened this evening. I—I feel as if I want to be alone. You are not a woman, and can’t understand such things.’
Again his arm stole round her waist. The clock on the mantel-piece struck the hour. Mora disengaged herself. ‘Twilight seems to have come all at once,’ she said. ‘You will have a dark drive. It is time for you to go.’
‘More’s the pity.’
‘To-morrow will soon be here; which reminds me that we have arranged for a picnic to-morrow at High Ghyll Force.’