“Nothing very definite,” she said, with a bitter laugh.
They were silent. After a while she rose, went lovingly over to him, and put her arms round his neck.
“This is our last clear day, dear,” she said.
A wave of love came over him, sweeping away all the rest. He took her in his arms….
“It will be hot to-day,” said Helena, as they prepared to go out.
“I felt the sun steaming in my hair as I came up,” he replied.
“I shall wear a hat—you had better do so too.”
“No,” he said. “I told you I wanted a sun-soaking; now I think I shall get one.”
She did not urge or compel him. In these matters he was old enough to choose for himself.
This morning they were rather silent. Each felt the tarnish on their remaining day.
“I think, dear,” she said, “we ought to find the little path that escaped us last night.”
“We were lucky to miss it,” he answered. “You don’t get a walk like that twice in a lifetime, in spite of the old ladies.”
She glanced up at him with a winsome smile, glad to hear his words.
They set off, Siegmund bare-headed. He was dressed in flannels and a loose canvas shirt, but he looked what he was—a Londoner on holiday. He had the appearance, the diffident bearing, and the well-cut clothes of a gentleman. He had a slight stoop, a strong-shouldered stoop, and as he walked he looked unseeing in front of him.
