Sabina looked her surprise.  She had been expecting Raymond all the morning, to bring the great news to Ernest Churchouse, and was puzzled to know why he had not come.  She could not wait longer, and while her mother advised delay, found herself unable to delay.

Now she perceived that Raymond had made plans independently of her.

“I was coming in this evening,” he said, in answer to her eyes.

“May I speak to you a moment before you start with Miss Waldron?” she asked, and together they strolled into Estelle’s rose garden where still a poor blossom or two crowned naked sprays.

“I don’t understand,” began the girl.  “Surely—­surely after yesterday?”

“I’d promised to go for this walk with her.”

“What then?  Wasn’t there all the morning?  My mother and I didn’t go to church—­expecting you every minute.”

“You must keep your nerve, Sabina—­both of us must.  You mustn’t be hysterical about it.”

She perceived how mightily his mood had changed since their leave-taking of the day before.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.  “I suppose your people have not taken this well.”

“They don’t know yet—­nobody does.”

“You didn’t tell them?”

“Things prevented it.  We must choose the right moment to spring this.  It’s bound to knock them over for a minute.  I’m thinking it all out.  Probably you don’t quite realise, Sabina, what this means from their point of view.  The first thing is to get my aunt on my side; Daniel’s hopeless, of course.”

She stared at him.

“What in God’s name has come over you?  You talk as though you hadn’t a drop of blood in your veins.  Were you deaf yesterday?  Didn’t you hear me tell you I was with child by you?  ‘Their point of view’!  What about my point of view?”

“Don’t get excited, my dear girl.  Do give me credit for some sense.  This is a very ticklish business, and the whole of our future—­yours, of course, quite as much as mine—­will depend on what I do during the next few days.  Do try to realise that.  If I make a mistake now, we may repent it for fifty years.”

“What d’you call making a mistake?  What choice of action have you got if you’re a gentleman?  It kills me—­kills me to hear you talking about making a mistake; and your hard voice means that you think you’ve made one.  What have I done but love you with all my heart and soul?  What have I ever done to make you put other people’s points of view before mine?”

“I’m not—­I’m not, Sabina.”

“You are.  You used to understand me so well and know what was in my mind before I spoke, and now—­now before this—­the greatest thing in the world for me—­you—­”

“Talk quietly, for goodness’ sake.  You don’t want all Bridetown to hear us.”

“You can say that?  And you go out walking with a child and—­”