“Just free of the south-west wind. You could read and work here.”
She sighed wistfully.
“Yes, I shall work here.”
Neither of them spoke of surrender, or hinted at the obvious accomplishment of an ideal. Their subtle understanding of each other seemed part of the darkness, something that enveloped them, and did not need to be defined. Eve’s hand lay against Canterton’s on the oak seat. The lightest of touches was sufficient. She was learning that the light, delicate touches, the most sensitive vibrations, are the things that count in life.
“How did you happen to be here?”
“You had given me a warning, and I came to guard the most precious part of my property.”
“And you were listening? You heard?”
“Oh, everything, especially that wild cat’s tin-plate voice. What of the great movement?”
She gave a subtle little laugh.
“I had just found out how impossible they are. I had been realising it slowly. Directly I got back into the country my old self seemed to return.”