He moved that hand, held it out in supplication. For
long--how long--Gyp did not stir, looking straight at that beseeching
figure. Then, with a feeling she had never known, she saw him coming. He
came up to the verandah and stood looking up at her. She could see all
the workings of his face--passion, reverence, above all amazement; and
she heard his awed whisper:
"Is it you, Gyp? Really you? You look so young--so young!"
VII
From the moment of surrender, Gyp passed straight into a state the more
enchanted because she had never believed in it, had never thought that
she could love as she now loved. Days and nights went by in a sort of
dream, and when Summerhay was not with her, she was simply waiting with
a smile on her lips for the next hour of meeting. Just as she had never
felt it possible to admit the world into the secrets of her married
life, so, now she did not consider the world at all. Only the thought of
her father weighed on her conscience. He was back in town. And she felt
that she must tell him. When Summerhay heard this he only said: "All
right, Gyp, whatever you think best."
And two days before her month at the bungalow was up, she went, leaving
Betty and little Gyp to follow on the last day. Winton, pale and
somewhat languid, as men are when they have been cured, found her when
he came in from the club. She had put on evening dress, and above the
pallor of her shoulders, her sunwarmed face and throat had almost the
colour of a nectarine.
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