She gave a contemptuous snort. “How like a man! Superior even about his tragedies.”
“Good Lord, you can have all mine any day you want them,” he said, with a tinge of bitterness in his voice.
They rode on in silence for a few minutes. Enough light radiated off the beach and the surf for them to see each other’s faces. They had now reached a place on the coast where trees came down to the shore, and there was a little gully a few yards further on.
“Would you like to get off and smoke a while?” he asked.
“Yes, indeed.”
He fastened the horses, and they sat down on the roots of a tree near them.
“How did you hear of your old place by the river?” she asked, after he had lit her cigarette and his pipe.
“Oh, I came wandering by it one day and saw ‘For Sale’ on the gate. I went in, and I never made a quicker decision about anything in my life. I bought it the next day. It’s one of the few sensible things I ever did.”
“I wonder if they have been so few,” she said softly.
“I’m afraid they have. I haven’t lived sensibly at all. I’m not like you, you see.”
He shot a quick look at her.
“Oh dear! Have I suggested that I’ve lived sensibly?”
“Well, I may have misunderstood you. Suppose you explain yourself.”
“Good Lord!” she laughed, but very pleased that he seemed interested. “Wherever shall I begin?”
“Well, let’s go backwards. Why do you want to work on a paper?”
“Why ———” she paused considering.
“Don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” he said quickly.
“Oh, but I do. I was just thinking—about what led
