His hand took hers very gently. At the touch of her fingers his heart began suddenly to pound his breast so that he could not hear, a quiver shook his body, he bent his head. “I’m an awfully poor sort of fellow,” he said in a whisper. The mulberry tree, the lawn, the shining windows, the flowers caught the tone and for one moment fell like a burning cloud about the two, then the light died away. * * * * * In the green wood, on the knoll, a little breeze played with the tops of the trees; down, far below, the white beach shone in the sun and the waves curled in dancing rows across the blue. Two rabbits fancied for a moment that they heard the tune that had charmed them earlier in the day. They crept out to look, but there was no one on the knoll. CHAPTER X IN WHICH EVERYONE FEELS THE AFTER EFFECT OF THE PICNIC Meanwhile the picnic remained, for others besides Maradick, an interpretation. Lady Gale sat on the evening of the following day watching the sun sink behind the silver birch. She had dressed for dinner earlier than usual, and now it was a quarter to eight and she was still alone in the gradually darkening room. Mrs. Lester came in. She was dressed in pale blue, and she moved with that sure confidence that a woman always has when she knows that she is dressed with perfect correctness. “My dear,” she said, bending down and kissing Lady Gale, “I’m perfectly lovely to-night, and it isn’t the least use telling me that it’s only vanity, because I know perfectly well I’m the real right thing, as Henry James would say if he saw me.” “I can’t see, dear,” said Lady Gale, “but from the glimpse I’ve got I like the dress.” “Oh, it’s perfection! The only thing is that it seems such a waste down here! There’s no one who cares in the least whether you’re a fright or no.” “There’s at any rate, Fred,” said Lady Gale. “Oh, Fred!” said Mrs. Lester scornfully. “He would never see if you stuck it right under his nose. He can dress his people in his novels, but he never has the remotest notion what his wife’s got on.” “He knows more than you think,” said Lady Gale. “Oh, I know Fred pretty well; besides,” Mrs. Lester added, smiling a little, “he doesn’t deserve to have anything done for him just now. He’s been very cross and nasty these few days.” She was sitting on a stool at Lady Gale’s feet with her hands clasped round her knees, her head was flung back and her eyes shining; she looked rather like a cross, peevish child who had been refused something that it wanted. Lady Gale sighed for a moment and looked out into the twilight; in the dark blue of the sky two stars sparkled. “Take care of it, dear,” she said. “Of what?” said Mrs. Lester, looking up. “Love, when you’ve got it.” Lady Gale put her hand out and touched Mrs. Lester’s arm. “You know perfectly well that you’ve got Fred’s. Don’t play with it.”