CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I NEVER knew just how it happened. Instead of driving back through Port Vigor, we turned into a side road leading up over the hill and across the heath where the air came fresh and sweet from the sea. The Professor sat very silent, looking about him. There was a grove of birches on the hill, and the sunlight played upon their satin boles.
"It feels good to be out again," he said calmly. "The Sage cannot be so keen a lover of open air as his books would indicate, or he wouldn't be so ready to clap a man into quod. Perhaps I owe him another punch on the nose for that."
"Oh, Roger," I said—and I'm afraid my voice was trembly—"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Not very eloquent, was it? And then, somehow or other, his arm was around me.
"Helen," he said. "Will you marry me?
