The supposition was rushing forth with velocity. Then, in a trice, Marjorie stopped. She coloured to the roots of her hair. And then she and Geoffrey laughed so loud that the stilly air rang with their laughter. If these two young people did not actually tread the primrose path, they were within a stone’s-throw of it, ignorant though both might be of the route which lay so near them. ‘That “ar” is the worst of all your cruelties,’ said Geff presently. ‘To show my greatness of mind I will return evil for good. I will tell you what you wish to know. As I walked out for the first time to Tintajeux, I had you constantly before my mind’s eye, Miss Bartrand. I saw you, with the vision of the spirit, every inch an heiress.’ ‘Every inch an heiress!’ repeated Marjorie, abashed. ‘With rigid manners, hair drawn back, Chinese fashion, and overwhelming dignity. Whenever people are of more than common volume--I fancy that is the euphemistic term, is it not?--dignity!’ ‘And you found me--a scarecrow.’ She measured, mentally, and with self-abasement, the leanness of her unfledged figure. ‘What did you think when a lank country child, in a cotton gown, and without either dignity or manner, appeared before you?’ ‘I felt it was my duty to accept facts as they came. I summoned up courage, and mastered my disappointment with tolerable ease,’ said Geoffrey Arbuthnot. His face supplied a postscript to the admission which caused Marjorie’s heart to beat faster. ‘We must not stop here all day!’ she cried, springing promptly to her feet. ‘Although, if one had something to eat, it might be pleasant to do so. Yonder, to the left, is Courseulles spire. We saw it--no, you were hemmed in by sunshades--I saw it from the steamer. If we take this footpath through the cornfields, we might visit Courseulles and make a small turn round the country before going back to our company and our dinner at Langrune.’ But Geoffrey did not move. ‘I will have my bond,’ he uttered with tragic emphasis. ‘I will never stir from this spot until you tell me what your wish was when you curtsied to the moon.’ ‘I would rather not say. You have the right to insist, of course--it was a bargain. But, please, let me off. Why should I repeat such puerility here, in the wise and sober light of day?’ ‘I will have my bond,’ repeated Geoffrey Arbuthnot tenaciously. ‘I have made my confession in full. Now, do you make yours. What was your wish?’ A flood of shame by this time suffused Marjorie’s cheeks. But Geoffrey was stubborn. He exacted his pound of flesh to the uttermost. ‘I curtsied, as the children do, thrice ... and each time, while you were talking solemnly to grandpapa, I said, quite in a whisper----’ ‘Don’t mind punctuation, Miss Bartrand. It will be the sooner over.’