If there had been any one to see these two together on Tuesday afternoon, there would have been words of envy, malice, and hatred.

As it was, they were quite alone on the cliff walk.
Margaret was happy; there was light in her eyes, and a faint warm flush on her dark cheek.

A closed parasol hung from her hand, having an ivory handle carved with an "M" and a crown--the very one that three months ago had struck the first spark of their acquaintance from the stones of the old Schloss at Heidelberg--perhaps she had brought it on purpose.
She was happy still, for she did not know that Claudius was going away, though he had brought her out here, away from every one, that he might tell her.

But they had reached the cliff and had walked some distance in the direction of the point, and yet he spoke not.

Something tied his tongue, and he would have spoken if he could, but his words seemed too big to come out.