He insisted. She refused. He
insisted still, and compromised by laying the overcoat round both of
them.
And they crouched together under the wall, sitting closer so that the
coat might cover them.
It thundered and lightened. The rain pelted them from the high
batteries of Karva. And Rowcliffe drew Mary closer. She laughed like a
happy child.
Rowcliffe sighed.
It was after he had sighed that he kissed her under the cover of the
coat.
* * * * *
They sat there for half an hour; three-quarters; till the storm ceased
with the rising of the moon.
* * * * *
"I'm afraid the pretty frock's spoiled," he said.
"That doesn't matter. Your poor suit's ruined."
He laughed.
"Whatever's been ruined," he said, "it was worth it."
Hand in hand they went back together through the drenched fields.
At the first gap he stopped.
"It's settled?" he said. "You won't go back on it? You _do_ care for
me? And you _will_ marry me?"
"Yes."
"Soon?"
"Yes; soon."
At the last gap he stopped again.
"Mary," he said, "I suppose you knew about Gwenda?"
"I knew there was something. What was it?"
He had said to himself, "I shall have to tell her. I shall have to say
I cared for her."
What he did say was, "There was nothing in it. It's all over. It was
all over long ago."
"I knew," she said, "it was all over."
And the solemn white moon came up, the moon that Gwenda loved; it came
up over Greffington Edge and looked at them.
Pages:
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244