It is a charming ride."

"But too long!--One does not want to lose time."

She was now sitting; and he beside her. Mechanically she had taken up
some embroidery--to shield her eyes. He examined the reds and blues of
the pattern, the white fingers, the bending cheek. Suddenly, like Sir
James Chide or Hugh Roughsedge, he was struck with a sense of change.
The Dian look which matched her name, the proud gayety and frankness of
it, were somehow muffled and softened. And altogether her aspect was a
little frail and weary. The perception brought with it an appeal to the
protective strength of the man. What were her cares? Trifling, womanish
things! He would make her confess them; and then conjure them away!

"You have your cousin with you?"

"Yes."

"She will make you a long visit?"

"Another week or two, I think."

"You are a believer in family traditions?--But of course you are!"

"Why 'of course'?" Her color had sparkled again, but the laugh was not
spontaneous.

"I see that you are in love with even your furthest kinsmen--you must
be--being an Imperialist! Now I am frankly bored by my kinsmen--near
and far."

"All the same--you ask their help!"

"Oh yes, in war; pure self-interest on both sides."

"You have been preaching this in the House of Commons?"

The teasing had answered. No more veiling of the eyes!

"No--I have made no speeches. Next week, in the Vote of Censure debate,
I shall get my chance."

"To talk Little Englandism? Alack!"

The tone was soft--it ended in a sigh.

"Does it really trouble you?"

She was looking down at her work. Her fingers drew the silk out and
in--a little at random. She shook her head slightly, without reply.

"I believe it does," he said, gently, still smiling. "Well, when I make
my speech, I shall remember that."

She looked up suddenly. Their eyes met full. On her just parted lips the
words she had meant to say remained unspoken. Then a murmur of voices
from the garden reached them, as though some one approached.
Marsham rose.

"Shall we go into the garden? I ought to speak to Robins. How is he
getting on?"

Robins was the new head gardener, appointed on Marsham's recommendation.

"Excellently." Diana had also risen. "I will get my hat."

He opened the door for her. Hang those people outside! But for them she
would have been already in his arms.

Left to himself, he walked to and fro, restless and smiling. No more
self-repression--no more politic delay!