He might approach the subject by these devious ways, he told himself. He had not meant to talk to her about his failure in courage until she and he could be alone in the evening ... this walk together was to be the final lovers' stroll, unmarred by any bitterness ... but even in his effort to postpone the time of telling, he had prepared to tell her ... and perhaps it was better that she should know now. Here, indeed, in this snowy silence, they were free from any intrusion. It might not be possible to make his confession to her without interruption from Rachel or Mrs. Graham ... and some feeling for the fitness of things made him decide that this outdoor scene was a better place for his purpose than the lamplit interior of the Manor. Through the blown branches of the hedges he could see the thick sheets of snow spread over the fields. The boughs of the fruit-trees in the orchard showed very black beneath their white covering, as if they felt cold, and he looted away quickly to the haystacks in the farmyard that seemed so warm in spite of the snow. The dusk was drawing in, and the grey sky was darkening for the night.... "Mary," he said, so abruptly that she looked up at him enquiringly. "Let's walk back a little way...." "But, Quinny, it's getting late. They'll wonder what's happened to us!" "I want to tell you ... now, Mary!" He compelled her to turn, as he spoke, and they walked slowly back towards the fir tree. "What is it, Quinny?" she asked tenderly, as if she would comfort him. "I ... I want to tell you something!" "Yes?" "I hardly know how to begin. It's very difficult, dear...." "What is it, Quinny?" she demanded, more anxiously. But still he would not tell her ... he must have her love a little longer. "Mary, I love you so much, dear ... oh, I feel like a fool when I try to tell you how much I love you!" "I know you love me, Quinny!" "And now ... this very minute ... I love you far more than I've ever loved you. Every bit of me is in love with you, Mary. You're very sweet and dear!..." She had a sense of impending disaster, but she did not express it in her words. "And I love you, Quinny!" she said. "I can't love you more than I've always loved you!..." "Could you love me less than you've always loved me?" he asked, turning and standing before her so that his eyes were looking into hers. "I don't know," she answered. "I've never tried!" He did not say any more for a few moments, but stood with his hands on her shoulders, looking steadily into her eyes, while she looked steadily into his. Then he took his hands from her shoulders and drew her into the shelter of his arms, and kissed her, letting his lips lie long on hers. "What do you want to tell me?" she said in a whisper. 7 Then he told her.