He saw Cecily's unsurpassable grace as she walked beside him, and her look of winning candour turned to him so often, and he fancied that it had given him pleasure to be with her.

And pleasure there was, no doubt, but inextricably blended with complex miseries.

To Cecily his mood appeared more gracious than she had ever known it; he did not disdain to converse on topics which presupposed some knowledge on her part, and there was something of unusual gentleness in his tone which she liked.
"Some day," she said, "we shall talk of Baiae in London, in a November fog." "I hope not." "But such contrasts help one to get the most out of life," she rejoined, laughing; "At all events, when some one happens to speak to me of Mr.Mallard's pictures, I shall win credit by casually mentioning that I was at Baiae in his company in such-and-such a year." "You mean, when I have painted my last!" "No, no! It would be no pleasure to me to anticipate that time." "But natural, in talking with a veteran." It was against his better purpose that he let fall these words; they contained almost a hint of his hidden self, and he had not yet allowed anything of the kind to escape him.

But the moment proved too strong.
"A veteran who fortunately gives no sign of turning grey," replied Cecily, glancing at his hair.
An interruption from Spence put an end to this dangerous dialogue.
Mallard, inwardly growling at himself, resisted the temptation to further _tete-a-tete_, and in a short time the party went in search of a conveyance for their return.

None offered that would hold four persons; the ordinary public carriages have convenient room for two only, and a separation was necessary.