It was later than that, indeed,—for he had forgotten the obligation of bridge,—before he could speak alone to the girl once more. But at last he lured her a little away from the others; and she was looking up at him and laughing to tease him just a little.
"Plotting?"
"Probably the most dastardly and desperate enterprise ever conceived by an American—in a cathedral town."
"What, just now?"
Young Preston shrugged himself up delightfully in the sense of the girl's near presence with him, and her still unfailing understanding of his moods.
The sun had long set over the red and gray glowing towers of the militant Ely; and even the long, long hours of the English twilight were gone; and the Americans had been driven in to the inevitable bridge.
Without, where the smooth, silver moon rose above the high embattled towers and turrets of the mighty church, the soft evening
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