"It's the lingering passion that she thinks was extinguished long ago. Poor old Haveril is all very well, but he hasn't the engaging qualities of the light comedian. Good, no doubt, at making money, and without the greater vices; but, Molly, my dear, without the lighter virtues. And these she remembers."
"Well, but that isn't what lies on her mind. You will be a thought-reader, indeed, Dick, if you can read what is written there."
They walked on together, side by side, in silence. Then the figure of the pale, fragile, sad woman went out of their thoughts. They returned, as is the way with youth, to themselves.
"You are happy, Molly?" he asked.
"I am happy enough," she sighed.
"Most of us are. We make ourselves as happy as we can. Of course, nobody is entirely happy till he gets all he wants. For my own part, I want very little; and I am very nearly quite happy, because I've got it all except one thing, Molly."
"Hadn't we better talk about the wisdom acquired on tramp?"
"That is just what I am doing, my dear child. To-night the stars are out, the skies are clear, the air is fresh. I smell the fragrant earth across the park. I can almost believe that we are miles and miles from a town. And I want to have a real talk with you, Molly."
"Will you let me talk first?"
"Certainly, if you won't abuse the privilege. But leave time for me to answer. We mustn't throw away such a chance as this."