“For always, Kenn? When you are meeting the fine ladies of London will you love a Highland lassie that cannot make eyes and swear choicely?”
“Forever and a day, dear.”
Aileen referred to the subject again two hours later when we arose from the table at the Manchester ordinary. It was her usual custom to retire to her room immediately after eating. To-night when I escorted her to the door she stood for a moment drawing patterns on the lintel with her fan. A fine blush touched her cheek.
“Were you meaning all that, Kennie?”
“All what, dear heart?”
“That—nonsense—in the forest.”
“Every bit of it.”
Her fan spelt Kenneth on the door.
“Sometimes,” she went on softly, “a fancy is built on moonlight and laughing eyes and opportunity. It iss like sunshine in winter on Raasay—just for an hour and then the mists fall.”
“For our love there will be no mists.”