He looked at the bright face; the
dark eyes met his, but he read no secret in them.
"Philippa," he said, suddenly, "the water looks very tempting--would you
like a row?"
"Above everything else," she replied. And they went off in the little
pleasure-boat together.
It was a miniature lake, tall trees bordering it and dipping their green
branches into the water. The sun shone on the feathered spray that fell
from the sculls, the white swans raised their graceful heads as the
little boat passed by, and Philippa lay back languidly, watching the
shadow of the trees. Suddenly an idea seemed to occur to her. She looked
at Lord Arleigh.
"Norman," she said, "let the boat drift--I want to talk to you, and I
cannot while you are rowing."
He rested on his sculls, and the boat drifted under the drooping
branches of a willow-tree. He never forgot the picture that then
presented itself--the clear deep water, the green trees, and the
beautiful face looking at him.
"Norman," she said, in a clear, low voice, "I want to tell you that I
overheard all that you said to the Duchess of Aytoun. I could not help
it--I was so near to you.
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