His other despair, who
had talked to him of hope and consoled him with a simple directness of
tender humanity, given him a kiss because he asked it. He had often
wanted a woman's caressing affection before, and gone without it. It
promised nothing, he thought; he perceived that it was the extremity she
saw in the situation that had prompted it. When she next met him she
would not, he knew, be ashamed of her kiss. If she thought about it, she
would be aware that he understood her, and would not presume on it.
The spots of milky whiteness resolved themselves again into blush roses;
hundreds and hundreds of them scented the air. Overhead hung long
wreaths of honeysuckle; colours began to show themselves; purple iris
and tree peony started out in detached patches from the shade; birds
began to be restless; here and there one fluttered forth with a few
sudden, imperfect notes; and the cold curd-like creases in the sky took
on faint lines of gold. And there was Emily--Emily coming down the
garden again, and Giles Brandon with her. Something in both their faces
gave him courage to speak.
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