Lucinda picked up the stringy train , which had been so brave and buoyant five minutes before , and started up the field at a brisk rate . Romney came up to her and slipped his arm through hers in the old way . For a time they walked along in silence . Then Lucinda began to shake with inward laughter . She laughed silently for the whole length of the field ; and at the line fence between Peter Penhallow 's land and the Grange acres she paused , threw back the fascinator from her face , and looked at Romney defiantly . `` You are thinking of -- THAT , '' she cried , `` and I am thinking of it . And we will go on , thinking of it at intervals for the rest of our lives . But if you ever mention it to me I 'll never forgive you , Romney Penhallow ! '' `` I never will , '' Romney promised . There was more than a suspicion of laughter in his voice this time , but Lucinda did not choose to resent it . She did not speak again until they reached the Grange gate . Then she faced him solemnly . `` It was a case of atavism , '' she said . `` Old Grandfather Gordon was to blame for it . '' At the Grange almost everybody was in bed . What with the guests straggling home at intervals and hurrying sleepily off to their rooms , nobody had missed Lucinda , each set supposing she was with some other set . Mrs. Frederick , Mrs. Nathaniel and Mrs. George alone were up . The perennially chilly Mrs. Nathaniel had kindled a fire of chips in the blue room grate to warm her feet before retiring , and the three women were discussing the wedding in subdued tones when the door opened and the stately form of Lucinda , stately even in the dragged voile , appeared , with the damp Romney behind her . `` Lucinda Penhallow ! '' gasped they , one and all .
`` I was left XXXXX walk home , '' said Lucinda coolly .
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