He had buried her
there among the blackened thorn and furze, and placed a little cross of
stones above her.
"I hope nobody saw me," he said with a laugh. "But I couldn't bear to
leave her there, unhonoured."
"It's one of the things that make me less certain than I want to be of a
future existence," said Joan: "the thought that animals can have no part
in it; that all their courage and love and faithfulness dies with them
and is wasted."
"Are you sure it is?" he answered. "It would be so unreasonable."
They had tea at an old-fashioned inn beside a stream. It was a favourite
resort in summer time, but now they had it to themselves. The wind had
played pranks with her hair and he found a mirror and knelt before her,
holding it.
She stood erect, looking down at him while seeming to be absorbed in the
rearrangement of her hair, feeling a little ashamed of herself. She was
"encouraging" him. There was no other word for it. She seemed to have
developed a sudden penchant for this sort of thing. It would end in his
proposing to her; and then she would have to tell him that she cared for
him only in a cousinly sort of way--whatever that might mean--and that
she could never marry him.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172