"The little Duchess!" he said, dully; then he put out his hand, took her small gloved one, and looked at it curiously.
"I—I am glad you're out," she said, carefully looking away from him.
"Yes—we must be married now, Nellie; that's all I've had to think about all this awful time."
His face flushed a little and his eyes lightened.
"It's good not to see the walls," he added, looking round at the spring's brave show, then away to the blue sparkle in the bay and the glancing sails.
"We mustn't talk of that time, though, ever—eh, Nellie?"
"No," she said, regarding her brown shoes intently.
His eye noted the smooth roundness of her cheek, the delicate pink that came and went, the turn of the white neck.
"Aren't you going to kiss me, Nellie?" he said, slowly; and he drew her a little strangely and awkwardly to him.
Then she spoke.