“He will never forgive us — I mean, he will never be interested in us again. I wish that he did not influence them so much at Windy Corner. I wish he hadn't — But if we act the truth, the people who really love us are sure to come back to us in the long run.”

“Perhaps.” Then he said more gently: “Well, I acted the truth — the only thing I did do — and you came back to me. So possibly you know.” He turned back into the room. “Nonsense with that sock.” He carried her to the window, so that she, too, saw all the view. They sank upon their knees, invisible from the road, they hoped, and began to whisper one another's names. Ah! it was worth while; it was the great joy that they had expected, and countless little joys of which they had never dreamt. They were silent.