"I shall do that," said he, "but for another reason."

Stella pushed on a foot or two ahead of him.

"Well," she said, "no doubt the Temple will be stuffy."

"Nor was I thinking of the Temple."

"No?"

"No."

She rode on a little way whilst he followed. A great bee buzzed past
their heads and settled in the cup of a wild rose. In a copse beside them
a thrush shot into the air a quiverful of clear melody.

Stella spoke again, not looking at her companion, and in a low voice and
bravely with a sweet confusion of her blood.

"I am very glad to hear you say that, for I was afraid that I had let you
see more than I should have cared for you to see--unless you had been
anxious to see it too."

She waited for an answer, still keeping her distance just a foot or two
ahead, and the answer did not come. A vague terror began to possess her
that things which could never possibly be were actually happening to
her. She spoke again with a tremor in her voice and all the confidence
gone out of it. Almost it appealed that she should not be put to shame
before herself.