During tea Johnson and his companion hardly spoke. Some strange barrier seemed suddenly to have risen up between them. Almost in silence they afterwards strolled along the terrace, and a little later turned their steps up a narrow, grass-grown lane which appeared to lead in the direction of the sloping woods they sought.
The lane curved, then turned abruptly to the right. Presently it curved again, describing almost a segment of a circle, then gradually became narrower. The grass, too, was longer as they wandered on. Then the branches of the trees on either side began to meet overhead, and soon they found themselves walking through a tunnel of thick foliage.
And still neither spoke. They walked very slowly now. It was Johnson who at last broke the silence:
“Jersey will always be associated in my mind,” he said in a low voice, “with some of the happiest moments of my life—this wonderful afternoon in particular.”
“Why wonderful?” Cora asked almost in a whisper, not trusting herself to look into his face.
“Why wonderful?”
Almost unconsciously his arm stole about her, and he drew her, unresisting, closer to him.
“Why wonderful?” he repeated.
They were standing quite still now. His arms encircled her. Her head sank forward on his breast and she felt his face buried in her hair.
On an instant a wild wave of passionate love for him swept over her. It was like the bursting of some great dam in her heart which for days past she had controlled. Turning, she put her hands behind his head and drew it down until his lips were pressed to hers. For over a minute they remained locked in a close embrace.