Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy. ‘Come, I told you I wish to know everything about you. He got up. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. “I have made no arrangements as yet— none at all. " He departed, musing. He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment.
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