'Oh, Everard--of course I haven't forgotten. I've not forgotten anything I promised you, and never will. But--have I got to go into that bedroom too?' He was really astonished. 'Have you got to go into that bedroom too?' he repeated, staring at the face enclosed in his two big hands. It looked extraordinarily pretty like that, like a small flower in its delicate whiteness next to his discoloured, middle-aged hands, and her mouth since her marriage seemed to have become an even more vivid red than it used to be, and her eyes were young enough to be made more beautiful instead of less by the languor of want of sleep. 'Well, I should think so. Aren't you my wife?' 'Yes,' said Lucy. 'But----' 'Now, Lucy, I'll have no buts,' he said, with his most serious air, kissing her on the cheek, she had discovered that just that kind of kiss was a rebuke. 'Those buts of yours butt in----' He stopped, struck by what he had said. 'I think that was rather amusing--don't you?' he asked, suddenly smiling. 'Oh yes--very,' said Lucy eagerly, smiling too, delighted that he should switch off from solemnity. He kissed her again,--this time a real kiss, on her funny, charming mouth. 'I suppose you'll admit,' he said, laughing and squeezing up her face into a quaint crumpled shape, 'that either you're my wife or not my wife, and that if you're my wife----' 'Oh, I'm _that_ all right,' laughed Lucy. 'Then you share my room. None of these damned new-fangled notions for me, young woman.' 'Oh, but I didn't mean----' 'What? Another but?' he exclaimed, pouncing down on to her mouth and stopping it with an enormous kiss. '_Monsieur et Madame se refroidiront_,' said the woman, turning round and drawing her shawl closer over her chest as a gust of chilly wind swept over the terrace. They were honeymooners, poor creatures, and therefore one had patience; but even honeymooners oughtn't to wish to embrace in a cold wind on an exposed terrace of a château round which they were being conducted by a woman who was in a hurry to return to the preparation of her Sunday dinner. For such purposes hotels were provided, and the shelter of a comfortable warm room. She had supposed them to be _père et fille_ when first she admitted them, but was soon aware of their real relationship. '_Il doit être bien riche_,' had been her conclusion. 'Come along, come along,' said Wemyss, getting up quickly, for he too felt the gust of cold wind. 'Let's finish the château or we'll be late for lunch. I wish they hadn't preserved so many of these places--one would have been quite enough to show us the sort of thing.' 'But we needn't go and look at them all,' said Lucy. 'Oh yes we must. We've arranged to.' 'But Everard----' began Lucy, following after him as he followed after the conductress, who had a way of darting out of sight round corners.