Ann woke early next morning, feeling rather as though it were to be her
last day on earth. She thought she could appreciate to some extent the
sensations of a man condemned to be executed the following dawn. To-day she
was tremendously alive, with happiness cupped betwixt her hands, while the
future of rose and gold beckoned her onward. To-morrow, that whole future
might be wrenched from her, leaving her like one dead, with nothing to live
for, nothing to hope.
When Eliot paid his usual daily visit she went tremulously to meet him.
This might be the last time he would ever look at her with the eyes of
love--the last time they would ever talk together as lovers. For her, his
kisses held all the poignant ecstasy and pain of kisses that may be the
last on earth.
He had noticed the _Sphinx_, lying at anchor in the bay, on his way to the
Cottage.
"I suppose that chap Forrester is going to favour Silverquay with another
visit," he remarked, as he and Ann strolled in the garden together. "I
don't care for him," he added. "When we are married, Ann, I'd rather you
didn't see any more of him than you can help. From all I can hear he hasn't
too savoury a reputation.
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