"
"But you don't--we ain't in love with each other or any such
silliness," said she, flicking idly at the hedge with the whip.
"I'm not so sure, Diana. Indeed, I begin to think I do--love you in a
way--or may do soon."
"Oh, do you?"
"I do!"
"Have you ever been in love?"
"Never."
"Then you don't know nothin' about it."
"Do you?" I questioned.
"More than you!" she nodded.
"Ah, do you mean that you have loved--some man--"
"Of course not, silly!"
"Good!" said I. "And you have promised faithfully never to kiss any
other man but me--"
"I said the man I married--"
"Well, that _is_ me."
"Oh, is it?"
"Of course!"
CHAPTER XXX
OF A TRULY MEMORABLE OCCASION
The silence was broken only by the plodding hoofs of Diogenes, the
creak of harness and rattle of wheels, while Diana grew lost in
thought and I in contemplation of Diana; the stately grace of her
slender, shapely form, the curve of her vivid lips, the droop of her
long, down-swept lashes, her resolute chin and her indefinable air of
native pride and power. All at once her sombre look gave place to a
smile, her slender hand tightened upon the reins, and glancing up I
saw that we had reached a place where four roads met, and here, seated
beneath the finger-post was a solitary, shabbily dressed old man
absorbed in a book; roused by the sound of our approach, he glanced up
and I recognised the ancient person, Lord Wyvelstoke.
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