their private life is all on the surface. Everybody knows about it, yet nobody cares. It is, the Countess added, the existence I prefer.
So would I! Gareth asserted fervently, but how will I ever be able to break away from this place?
That will come, the Countess assured him, laying her hand on his arm. In the meantime. . . . she withdrew her hand . . . let us enjoy ourselves here. Something will happen; you'll see. Something always does if you want it badly enough. We all get what we live for.
I've wanted, Gareth said, all my life to meet some one like you.
You see, the Countess responded, you wanted it, and you got your wish.
The sun was a flaming globe of fire descending behind the hills on the far bank of the river when they started back home. Again they paused at the top of the hill, which, in the late afternoon light seemed to be carpeted with orange and black. Suddenly, and at the same instant, they both became aware that they were not alone: reclining, their faces, just emerging from the tall grass, half-way down the hill, pressed together in the warmth of an embrace, the Countess and Gareth recognized Dr. Sinclair and Sarah Wiltbank.
