Remembering she had stood there with him.
"Is that all?" the Bishop asked, disappointedly.
"Yes, that is all."
Antony Pelham's heart, as he walked up the hill in the moonlight, was full. He was only twenty-eight, and desperately lonely, after the year of brightness and delight he had shared with his young wife. Marjorie reminded him of her in some strangely familiar way—in her simplicity, her immaturity, her withdrawals. He turned to look at the cathedral, shining white in the moonlight, remembering that she had stood there with him, and that their talk had been about a home.
"I will win her," he said, as he turned, and set his face to climb the hill.
END OF CHAPTER THREE.
