She was smiling now frankly
into his face, refusing the warning of his burning eyes. Then
suddenly, silently, he held her to him and kissed her,
unresisting, upon the lips. She made no protest. He even fancied
afterwards, when he tried to rebuild in his mind that queer,
passionate interlude, that her lips had returned what his had
given. It was he who released her--not she who struggled. Yet
he understood. He knew that this was a tragedy.
Stenson's voice reached them from the other side of the ridge.
"Come and show me the way across this wretched bit of marsh,
Orden. I don't like these deceptive green grasses."
"`Pitfalls for the Politician' or `Look before you leap'." Julian
muttered aimlessly. "Quite right to avoid that spot, sir. Just
follow where I am pointing."
Stenson made his laborious way to their side.
"This may be a short cut back to the Hall," he exclaimed, "but
except for the view of the sea and this gorgeous air, I think I
should have preferred the main road! Help me up, Orden. Isn't it
somewhere near here that that little affair, happened the other
night?"
"This very spot," Julian assented. "Miss Abbeway and I were just
speaking of it."
They both glanced towards her. She was standing with her back to
them, looking out seawards. She did not move even at the mention
of her name.
"A dreary spot at night, I dare say," the Prime Minister remarked,
without overmuch interest. "How do we get home from here, Orden?
I haven't forgotten your warning about luncheon, and this air is
giving me a most lively appetite.
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