“By Jove! I never thought of that. But you aren’t locked in?”
“Not in the sense you mean. But locked doors would be trifles compared with the opposition I should encounter if I attempted to join you. I’d love to come out; but it’s impossible.”
“Is there any likelihood of our being overheard?” he asked with caution.
Prudence laughed quietly.
“Every likelihood,” she answered. “I don’t think I mind.”
Steele stood under cover of the wall of the house. There were no lights in the windows on that side; he had observed that on former occasions; the library, where Mr Graynor sat every evening with William, faced the other way.
“Then I’m going to run the risk and stay and talk with you,” he said.
There was a strange intimacy in the situation that appealed to Prudence. The adventure of the morning was as nothing compared with this stolen interview. The insufficient light of the moon, and the distance which divided them, added a touch of romance which she found pleasantly exciting. To gaze down upon his upturned face and the uncertain outline of his form below stirred her imagination; and the necessity for caution, occasioning them to lower their voices to whispers, gave to the utterance of the most trivial speech the flavour of intimate things. She leaned down nearer to him.
“It’s rather like Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it?” she said.
“That ended rottenly,” he replied, and laughed.