“The moment the car turned the bend to-day I knew something was going to happen here.”
More had happened than Tommy dreamed of in his young philosophy. Nor did Clementina enlighten him. She slid his arm from under hers and took it, and leaned ever so little on it, for the first time for many, many years a happy woman.
When they left the Temple she pleaded for an extension of their walk. She was no longer tired. She could go on for ever beneath such a moon.
“A night made for lovers,” said Tommy, “and we aren’t the only ones—look!”
And indeed there were couples sauntering by, head to head, talking of the things the moon had heard so many million times before.
“I suppose they take us also for lovers,” said Clementina foolishly.
“I don’t care if they do,” said Tommy. “Let us pretend.”
“Yes,” said Clementina. “Let us pretend.”
They wandered thus lover-like through the town, and came on the quay where they sat on the coping of the parapet, and watched the moonlit Rhone and the brave old Château-Fort on the hill.
“Are you glad you came with me?” she asked.