“I’ll wait outside your door, on the mat, to keep interruptions from you.” “I want to write ... to play the piano, to rest a great deal.” “Give me your odd half-hours.” She gave him back her hand instead. “Let’s pretend. We are to sail away into the unknown; to be happy ever afterwards. Where shall we go, Gabriel? Can we have a yacht?” “I am not rich.” “Pretend you are. Where shall we go? To Greece, where every stone is hallowed ground to you. All the white new buildings shall be blotted out and you may turn your back on the museum....” “I shall only want to look at you.” “No, on rocks and the blue Ægean Sea. No, we won’t go to Greece at all. You will be so learned, know so much more than I about everything. I shall feel small, insignificant.” “Never. Bigger than the Pantheon.” “We will go to Sicily instead, go down among the tombs.” “I bar the tombs.” “Contradicting me already. How dare you, sir?” So the time passed in happy fooling, but often their hands met, the under-currents between them ran swift and strong, deep too. Then it was time for lunch. It was Margaret who suggested they would be in time to meet Anne, walk up to the house with her. Nothing had been said about Dr. Kennedy. Gabriel had meant to broach the subject, only touch it lightly, suggest if she still needed medical attendance some one older, less interested might perhaps be advisable. But he never did broach the subject, it had been impossible on such a morning as this, she in such a mood, he in such accord with her. Anne, when they met her, dashed them both a little. She twittered away about the service and the sermon, but it was nervous and disjointed twitter, and her eyes were red. She responded awkwardly to all Margaret’s kind speeches, her enquiries after her headache; she was even guilty of the heinous offence, heinous in her own eyes when she remembered it afterwards, of saying nothing of the other’s faintness. Her landmarks had been swept away, the ground yawned under her feet. Divorce! She did not think she could live in the house with a divorced person. She knew that some clergymen would not even marry divorced people, nor give them the sacrament. She was miserably distressed, and longing to be at home. She felt she was assisting at something indecorous, if not worse; she thought she ought not to have waited for the sermon, she ought not to have left them so long alone together. All her mingled emotions made her feel ill again. She told Gabriel crossly that he was walking too fast. “Perhaps Mrs. Capel likes fast walking? Don’t mind me if you do,” she said to Margaret, “I can manage by myself.”