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"Wilful woman will do what she wants," said Halliday, resignedly, and tucked Lillian's arm beneath his own; "hello, there is Sir John and Mrs. Bolstreath on the terrace. They seem to be very happy together."
"So happy," whispered Lillian in his ear, "that I believe-" She pursed up her lips and looked unutterable things. "Well," said Dan, laughing, "it would not be at all a bad thing for Sir John to make Mrs. Bolstreath Lady Moon. She can nurse him and amuse him and bury him in due course. What a heap of marriages; you and I; Freddy and Mildred; Sir John and Mrs. Bolstreath. See; she's waving her hand to us. Let us go inside, as it's growing a trifle chilly."
"Hark," said Lillian, raising her finger, and Dan listened to hear the wild, delicious strain of a nightingale singing from a distant thicket. "It sings of my love for you," he whispered, "and of your love for me. What other than such a song can express our feelings, darling."
"This," said Lillian, and kissed him fondly.
"Clever girl!"