CHAPTER XI
I
ABOUT eight o'clock that evening Daphne raised her head at the sound of footsteps; listened a moment; and then, with a look of concern on her face, laid aside her sewing and glided out through the door. She met Kenneth at the foot of the veranda steps, and without a word took his arm and led him out of the path of the lamplight to the head of the lower terrace. There she forced him to sit beside her. She gathered his head to her breast, and held him close, saying nothing. At first every fibre of his body was tense, but after a while his muscles began slowly to relax. He drew a long, shuddering breath and sat up.
"Daffy," he demanded, intensely, "will you marry me?"
"You know I will, sweetheart," she replied.
"I mean right away—now."
"This very night, if you want me to."
He sighed again, and in his turn drew her to him. She snuggled into the hollow of his arm.
"I feel better," he told her. "Daffy, you're such a comfort. You do know what to do. Oh, sweetheart, let's not wait for anything: let's get married, and get away from it, just us together!"
"At any time you say, dear."
"Daffy," he said solemnly, sitting up straight in order to give greater effect to his words. "I had no idea!—it was terrible to me! I can't tell you! Some day I will, but not now. I could not think that my own father—Daffy, I'm not going back there. He accused me—I couldn't believe it"
"Never mind, dear. Don't try to talk about it. You did the right thing: nothing can change that. Come, let's walk down to Dolman's House and look up at the stars through the branches."
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