"Please tell me about it, if it is very amusing," she said.
"I wonder if it will amuse you," was his answer. "Do you like savage
romance?"
"Very much."
It might seem a propos de rien, but he did not care in the least. He
wanted to hear what she would say.
"An ancestor of mine--a certain Red Godwyn--was a barbarian immensely to
my taste. He became enamoured of rumours of the beauty of the daughter
and heiress of his bitterest enemy. In his day, when one wanted a thing,
one rode forth with axe and spear to fight for it."
"A simple and alluring method," commented Betty. "What was her name?"
She leaned in light ease against the stone back of her seat, the rose
light cast by her parasol faintly flushed her. The silence of their
retreat seemed accentuated by its background of music from the gardens.
They smiled a second bravely into each other's eyes, then their glances
became entangled, as they had done for a moment when they had stood
together in Mount Dunstan park. For one moment each had been held
prisoner then--now it was for longer.
"Alys of the Sea-Blue Eyes."
Betty tried to release herself, but could not.
"Sometimes the sea is grey," she said.
His own eyes were still in hers.
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