Why do you not go away?’ ‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. “Of course I will,” he answered. But I want to know whether in such an event you would stand by me?” She held out her hand. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me.
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