"Go on! It's the dearest nonsense," she heard him say; but she detected
pain in his voice and a new constraint.

"What is it? What is the 'truth'?"

"Oh, it's not so dreadful. Only, you always put me in quite a different
class from where I belong, and I haven't had the courage to set you
right."

"Children, children!" a young voice called, from the lighted walk above.
Two figures were going down the line, one in uniform keeping step beside a
girl in white who reefed back her skirts with one hand, the other was
raised to her hair which was blowing across her forehead in bewitching
disorder. Every gesture and turn of her shape announced that she was
pretty and gay in the knowledge of her power. It was Chrissy, walking with
Lieutenant Lane.

"Where are you--ridiculous ones? Don't you want to come with us?"

"'Now who were they?'" Paul quoted derisively out of the dark.

"We are going to Captain Dawson's to play Hearts. Come! Don't be stupid!"

"We are not stupid, we are busy!" Moya called back.

"Busy! Doing what?"

"Oh, deciding things. We are talking about the Poor Man."