"Thursby was good enough to go somewhere to-day, and let us have the cottage," he managed to say at length. "Do you mind if we are quite alone?"
"Philip!" she responded reproachfully. "How you talk!"
He called the Chinaman, who brought in the steaming teapot, the hot milk, and the buttered toast. Marion poured the tea in silence. They drank, too, almost in silence, and nibbled at the toast, forgetful that two days before, and for three dreadful months, tea and toast and milk, served on a table laid with white linen, would have seemed like a heavenly dispensation. Their very experience in the cave, which had broken down so many barriers between them, seemed to have reared a new one that neither understood. It was Marion who made a beginning to scale that barrier.
"You have made Claire very happy, Philip," she said.
"You know that, Philip!" And then, a little mischievously: "Remember I tried to make peace between you once."
"And a fine job you made of it!" he retorted.
Then they both laughed, and lapsed again into silence. But presently Haig arose, went to a cabinet standing against the wall, and brought back a faded photograph, which he handed to her.
She saw a face that seemed a little sad, but the kindest of eyes, with a half serious twinkle in them.
"We were great friends," he said. "We used to take long walks together of a Sunday afternoon. He was a silent man, rather, and we did not talk much, but--shall I tell you one thing he used to say to me, often?"
"I believed it then. But things happened to make me think that father was mistaken. For ten years I didn't believe it at all."
"He used to say: 'My boy, there's only one thing in the world that's worth while. And that is love.'"
"Why, that's what Daddy always said, almost his very words!" she cried, her eyes filling.
But she could endure no more. She rose swiftly to her feet, her eyes devouring him, her arms stretched out.
"Marion!" he cried, and leaped to catch her, and folded her close, as he had clasped her in the cave. But now the arms that stole up around his neck did not fall away weakly as before, but tightened, and held him.
A long time they remained thus, in a silence broken only by the crackling of the flames, which they did not hear, and the wind rising outside the cottage, for which they did not care. At length he put his fingers under her chin, and raised her head so that he could look into her eyes.