It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered. "I will be there at the time. ’ ‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly. The scrutiny of any strange man provoked a sweaty terror. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. She turned a resolute face southward.
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