She thought that she concealed her intention from Claude. She had sufficient knowledge of his character to realize that he might be worried if he thought that he was being taken too firmly in hand. She honestly wished to be delicate with him, even to be very subtle. But she was so keenly, so incessantly alive to the reason of their coming to Africa, she was so determined that success should result from their coming, that purpose, as it were, oozed out of her. And Claude was sensitive. He felt it like a cloud gathering about him, involving him to his detriment. Sometimes he was on the edge of speaking of it to Charmian. Sometimes he was tempted to break violently away from all his precautions, to burst out from secrecy, and to liberate his soul. But a voice within him held him back. It whispered: "It is too late now. You should have done it long ago when you were first married, when first she began to assert herself in your art life." And he kept silence. Perhaps if he had been thoroughly convinced of the nature of Charmian's love for him, he would even now have spoken. But he could not banish from him grievous doubts as to the quality of her affection. She devoted herself to him. She was concentrated upon him, too concentrated for his peace. She was ready to give up things for him, as she had just given up her life and her friends in England. But why? Was it because she loved him, the man? Or was there another--a not completely hidden reason? Charmian and he went together to see the little island. The owner of the garden in which it stood, with its tiny lake around it, was absent in England. The old Arab house was closed. But the head gardener, a Frenchman, who had spent a long life in Algeria, remembered Charmian, and begged her to wander wherever she pleased. She took Claude to the edge of the lake, and drew him down beside her on a white seat. And presently she said: "Claudie, it was here I first knew I should marry you." Claude, who had been looking in silence at the water, the palm, and the curving shores covered with bamboos, flowering shrubs, and trees, turned on the seat and looked at her. "Knew that you would marry me!" he said. Something in his eyes almost startled her. "I mean I felt as if Fate meant to unite us." He still gazed at her with the strange expression in his eyes, an expression which made her feel almost uneasy. "Something here"--she almost faltered, called on her will, and continued--"something here seemed to tell me that I should come here some day with you. Wasn't it strange?" "Well, yes, I suppose it was," he answered. She thought his voice sounded insincere. "I almost wonder," he added, "that you did not suggest our coming here for our honeymoon." "I thought of it. I wanted to." "Then why didn't you?" "I felt as if the right time had not come, as if I had to wait." "And now the right time has come?" "Yes, now it has come."