Oh, my dear, my dear," he said--and she felt him tremble, though he
did not touch her. "I think more dearly of you than of anything in
heaven. The world holds no other woman for me. So it will always be."

She said quietly, "It's very wonderful. I don't understand it at all.
I thought perhaps--I wondered--if I had been angry--"

"I deserve that, and more."

"I know I ought to be angry. So I should be if--"

"Well, my love, well?"

But she couldn't tell him, and asked him to let her go. They parted at
the entry of the wood with Good night, and Lucy flitted back with a
pain in her heart like the sound of wailing. But women can wail at
heart and show a fair face to the world. Her stretched smile had lost
none of its sweetness, her eyes none of their brightness. Vera Nugent
watched her narrowly, and led the conversation upstairs. She thought
that she detected a pensive note, but assured herself that all was
pretty well. "That's a remarkable woman," she said to herself, "who
would rather have a heartache now than grin with misery next week.
After this I'd trust her anywhere."

* * * * *

On Sunday morning Urquhart made an explicit return to Martley,
arriving at the hour of eleven in his motor of battleship grey colour
and formidable fore-extension. Behind it looked rather like a toy.
Lucy had gone to church alone, for James never went, and Vera Nugent
simply looked appealing and then laughed when she was invited. That
was her way of announcing her religion, and a pleasant one. Lord
Considine was out for the day, with sandwiches bulging his pockets.
Nugent had been invisible since overnight. He was slugging, said his
wife.

Returning staidly through the wood, she saw Urquhart waiting for her
at the wicket, and saw him, be it owned, through a veil of mist. But
it was soon evident, from his address, that the convention set up was
to be maintained. The night was to take care of itself; the day was to
know nothing of it, officially. His address was easy and
light-hearted. "Am I to be forgiven? Can I expect it? Let me tell you
that I do expect it. You know me better than to suppose that I didn't
want to be here on your first visit."

She answered him with the same spirit. "I think you might have been, I
must say."

"No, I couldn't. There was no doubt about it. I simply had to go."

"So Vera told me." Then she dared. "May I ask if you went far?"

He tipped his head sideways. "Too far fo