"You said that you might marry—one day——"
"Who knows? But it won't be you. Why, you'll be married long before."
A little breeze blew along the avenue. Muriel shivered.
"I think we'd better go. I've talked too long. There's nothing else to say. Don't be more angry with me than you can help. We've both been honest with each other."
"Yes—— We've been honest."
He liked that. She felt his eyes straying again towards the open vista, to the fields where now long shadows stretched across the gilded grass, to the crowded terraces, to the grey house. He would find comfort there for whatever soreness she had left with him.
"I'll go," she said. "And—very good luck to you, Godfrey."
Shyly she held out her hand.
He frowned. For a moment his wounded pride withheld him, but she looked so very small and powerless before his height, his strength, and his position. His smile came suddenly and he took her hand.
"By Jove," he said, "I'm only just beginning to realize what I've missed."