In this cruel uncertainty, she spent the next two hours, till it was
nearly three. If she did not go out, he would come on to Bury Street,
and that would be still more dangerous. She put on her hat and walked
swiftly towards St. James's Palace. Once sure that she was not being
followed, her courage rose, and she passed rapidly down toward the
water. She was ten minutes late, and seeing him there, walking up and
down, turning his head every few seconds so as not to lose sight of the
bench, she felt almost lightheaded from joy. When they had greeted with
that pathetic casualness of lovers which deceives so few, they walked
on together past Buckingham Palace, up into the Green Park, beneath the
trees. During this progress, she told him about her father; but only
when they were seated in that comparative refuge, and his hand was
holding hers under cover of the sunshade that lay across her knee, did
she speak of Fiorsen.
He tightened his grasp of her hand; then, suddenly dropping it, said:
"Did he touch you, Gyp?"
Gyp heard that question with a shock. Touch her! Yes! But what did it
matter?
He made a little shuddering sound; and, wondering, mournful, she looked
at him. His hands and teeth were clenched. She said softly:
"Bryan! Don't! I wouldn't let him kiss me."
He seemed to have to force his eyes to look at her.
"It's all right," he said, and, staring before him, bit his nails.
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