elizabeth came into the garden of the green man the morning following the aforementioned conversation, with determination in her heart, and her formula on her lips.

she saw david sitting on a wooden bench near the stream. he had left the parlour some ten minutes previously.

he was looking at the running water. even at the distance he was from her, elizabeth was aware of a certain tenseness, a certain keyedness in his attitude. he seemed waiting, expectant.

she went across the grass towards him, her step making no sound on the soft turf. she was within a couple of yards from him before he saw her. he got up from the bench.

“mrs. darcy,” he said in a queer hesitating voice, “if i can, i want to talk to you.”

elizabeth noticed that he did not say, “if i may.”