more.

"I think," he had answered smiling, "it was the very first moment you
came into the room, looking like a woodland elf in your green frock.
Anyhow I am quite certain it was when you were--shall we say a trifle
snubbed in the moonlight."

"Ah, poor Pia," said Trix.

And then they had told each other countless little trivial things, things
of no earthly importance to any one but their two selves, things rendered
sweet, not so much by the words, as by the tone in which they were
spoken. It had been the old, old story, the story which began in all its
first beauty in the Garden of Eden, before the devil had entered therein
with his wiles, a story which even now ofttimes holds much of that
age-old wonderful beauty. And the stuffy, fusty railway carriage had not
in the least diminished the joy of the telling.

Trix smiled to herself, a soft little radiant smile.

To-morrow she must tell Pia. She gave a little sigh. It would seem almost
cruel to let her know of their happiness.

For Trix's own happiness to be without flaw, it was invariably necessary
that others should be in practically the same state of bliss.

CHAPTER XXXII

SUNLIGHT AND HAPPINESS

Sleep, they say, brings counsel. Most certainly it brought counsel to
Trix, and really such simple counsel she marvelled that she had not
thought of it before.

After all, the question as to whether she should or should not disclose
Antony Gray's identity to Pia, and thereby run the risk either of untruth
or of breaking a promise, was purely a question of conscience. Now, in a
question of conscience, if you cannot decide for yourself, it is always
safe to consult a priest. She would therefore walk over to Byestry after
breakfast--after she had told Pia her own particular and wonderful
news--and consult Father Dormer. It would be quite easy to explain
matters to him without mentioning names.

Trix began formulating her query in her mind as she dressed. By the time
this process was completed, however, she had come to the conclusion that
she was not altogether sure whether it would be so easy. She found
herself getting wound up into rather extraordinary knots. Well, anyhow
she would explain somehow, and no doubt words would come when she was
actually confronted with him. Besides, it was never the smallest use
arranging conversations beforehand, like a French conversation book,
because people never gave the right answers to your questions, and never
put th