But Patricia was gazing past him through a gap in the trees at a white flinty road that struggled up to the distant downs. "Yes," she said very softly, as if fearing to quench a vision she saw there, "yes, that is a great and a good thing, and like you." "Thank you," he answered laughing--the spell of their mutual earnestness pressed him too sorely. "Don't laugh," she returned swiftly with a frown; "it is not the goodness that's like you. It's a sort of strongness about it--something to hold on to for all time." She stopped abruptly, looking at him gravely. This time he did not laugh, but he put one hand on hers, and his was shaking. "Christopher," she said coaxingly, "will you really take me down to the sea when I like?" "Whenever you like." "Then do it this afternoon. Now, at once," she cried pleadingly, and seeing his face of amazement, added, "you promised, Christopher." "Of course. I'll do it; but why not to-morrow, when we can have a long day?" "Because--because to-day is all my own," she said softly, "and to-morrow isn't. Christopher, I did not mean to tell anyone to-day, but I must tell you, I am going to marry Geoffry,"--she flushed rosy red, but he did not see it--"it was last night--he wanted to see Nevil at once, but I wouldn't let him. I wanted this day to myself. It was nice of you to come and make it complete." His hand still held hers, but it was still and motionless now. She stroked it softly. Christopher drew it gently away. "You ought to wish me happiness or something, ought you not?" she said. "I do, Patricia," he said, looking up at her. He wanted to say more; self-preservation demanded it, and again demanded silence. Their voices seemed to him far away, speaking in some fairy orchard where he was not. He could barely hear them. "You'll pretend not to know anything about it till to-morrow, won't you?" she pleaded. "Don't spoil my day. It isn't that it won't be perfectly lovely to be engaged, but the past has been, lovely too, and I want to keep it a tiny bit longer. You'll help me, won't you?" "Yes, I'll help you." If he could but keep to-day forever shut in his heart with her, though life crumbled to ruins about them! But the invincible hours were ranged against him, and would claim it their own. "And you'll take me to the sea?" "Yes, if you come at once." She descended from her perch with his help. She did not know his hands felt numb and dead as he held and released her. "You haven't told me the second thing about yourself," she remarked, brushing the bark and lichen from her dress. "It will keep," he said quietly. And they went out of the orchard. CHAPTER XVIII