before he turned away.

Edmund was quite silent as he walked out on the terrace, and seemed as
absorbed as Rose in the view that lay below them. But it was with the
scene he had just witnessed inside the Castle that his mind was filled.
There had been something curiously dramatic in the meeting which he
would have done a great deal to prevent. But, annoyed as he was, he
could not help dwelling for a moment on the picture of the two with a
certain artistic satisfaction. Rose, in her plain, almost poor,
clinging black clothes was, as always, amazingly graceful; he felt, not
for the first time, as if her every movement were music.

"But that girl is handsome. How she looked into Rose's face, the amazing
little devil!--she is plucky."

Then he caught himself up abruptly; it was no use to talk nonsense to
himself. The point was how to keep these two apart and how short Mrs.
Delaport Green's visit might be made.

"Unluckily Monday is a Bank holiday, but they shall not be asked to stay
one hour after the 10.30 train on Tuesday if I have to take them away
myself," he murmured. Meanwhile, it was a beautiful evening; there was a
wonderful view, and Rose was here, and, for the moment, alone with him.
She ran her fingers into the fair hair that was falling over her
forehead, and pushed it back and her hat with it, so that the fresh
spring air "may get right into my brain," she said, "and turn out London
blacks."

"The blacks don't penetrate in your case," said Edmund.