“And all the time I never left my duty once for an instant. I think I ought to get a medal!” “You should indeed, darling. And I never once distracted you from it did I?” “Unhappily, no!” His eyes danced. “So I ought to get more than a medal!” “What? What should you get--now?” His voice was a little hoarse. He drew closer to her. She made no answer in words; but her eyes were more eloquent. With a mutual movement she was in his arms and their mouths met. “And now for lunch!” he said as after a few entrancing seconds she drew her face away. “I am sure you must be starving.” “I _am_ hungry!” she confessed. Her face was still flushed and her eyes were like stars. She bustled about to help him. He took the seats and cushions from the tonneau and made a comfortable nest for her, with a seat for himself close, very close beside her. He lifted off the luncheon basket and unstrapped it. Whilst she took out the plates and packets and spread the cloth he put a bottle of champagne and one of fizzy water in the cool of the running stream. They may have had some delightful picnics on Olympus in the days of the old gods who were so human and who loved so much--and so often. But surely there was none so absolutely divine as on that day that under the trees, looking over at the grey piling summits of the mountains of Carsphairn. The food was a dream, the wine was nectar. The hearts of the two young people beat as one heart. Love surely was so triumphant that there never could come a cloud into the sky which hung over them like a blue canopy. Life and nature and happiness and beauty and love took hands and danced around them fairy-like as they sat together, losing themselves and their very souls in the depths of each other’s eyes. CHAPTER XV. “STOP!” Under the shading trees the time flew fast. It is ever thus in the sylvan glades where love abides: “… The halcyon hours with double swiftness run And in the splendour of Arcadian summers The quicker climb the coursers of the sun.” Athlyne and Joy sat in a gentle rapture of happiness. She had made him draw up his cushion close to her so that she could lean against him. They sat hand in hand for a while, and then one arm stole round her and drew her close to him. She came yieldingly, as though such a moment had been ordained since the beginning of the world. Her hand stole inside his arm and held him tight; and so they sat locked together, with their faces so close that their mouths now and again met in long, sweet kisses. More than once was asked by either the old question of lovers--which has no adequate or final answer: “Do you love me?” And at each such time the answer was given in the fashion which ruled in Eden--and ever since. Presently Athlyne, drawing Joy closer than ever to him, said: