"Why?"
"You couldn't understand."
"Did Piers and Pheasant come over here so that Eden could come home and be nursed?"
"Yes."
"But I thought Meggie couldn't abide Pheasant."
"Well, she's made friends with her for Piers's sake—and Eden's."
Wakefield's eyes, though dark with thought, were troubled. "I find it hard," he said, "to keep things straight in my mind."
"You don't need to. The less you think about them the better."
"But I've got my own ideas, just the same." His tone was truculent.
"You've too many ideas. You're too inquisitive."
Wakefield raised his eyes, with the perfect touch of appeal in them. "I suppose it's my delicate health," he said. How well he gauged his elder! He was drawn against his side as they went into the house.
No one in the dim parlour. The sitting-room, the dining-room, empty. Still, the sweet, full woman's voice flooded the house. They went up the stairs. Wakefield ran along the hallway, knocked on a door, and, almost immediately, opened it.
The room discovered was splashed with sunshine coming through the swaying branches of trees. It was bright with highly glazed, gaily coloured chintz. A vase holding daffodils stood on the centre table. On the table also was a silver tray bearing a teapot, a plate of scones, and a small piece of honey in the comb. Meg was enjoying one of her little lunches.
"Ha!" said Renny. "Nibbling as usual, eh?" He bent and kissed her.
Wakefield pressed against her back, holding his hands over her eyes. "Guess who it is!"
She drew down his hands till they lay on her breast, and turned her face back to his. They kissed. "Oh," he exclaimed, "I taste honey on you!" He looked greedily at the square of honeycomb.
