. It shows me that, when I chose a
companion, I chose well. To him I am not a woman; I am a man._'

And she finished with a repetition of Ferdinand's remark,--

'We are the Edisons of a new communion!'

When Valentia began to paint her companion's portrait, they were
naturally much more together. And they never grew tired of sitting in
the pleasant garden under the trees, while she worked at her canvas and
green shadows fell on the profile of Ferdinand White. They talked of
many things. After a while they became less reserved about their private
concerns. Valentia told Ferdinand about her home in Ohio, and about her
people; and Ferdinand spoke of the country parsonage in which he had
spent his childhood, and the public school, and lastly of Oxford and the
strange, happy days when he had learnt to read Plato and Walter
Pater....

At last Valentia threw aside her brushes and leant back with a sigh.

'It is finished!'

Ferdinand rose and stretched himself, and went to look at his portrait.
He stood before it for a while, and then he placed his hand on
Valentia's shoulder.

'You are a genius, Miss Stewart.'

She looked up at him.

'Ah, Mr White, I was inspired by you. It is more your work than mine.'

IV

In the evening they went out for a stroll. They wandered through the
silent street; in the darkness they lost the quaintness of the red brick
houses, contrasting with the bright yellow of the paving, but it was
even quieter than by day. The street was very broad, and it wound about
from east to west and from west to east, and at last it took them to the
tiny harbour. Two fishing smacks were basking on the water, moored to
the side, and the Zuyder Zee was covered with the innumerable
reflections of the stars. On one of the boats a man was sitting at the
prow, fishing, and now and then, through the darkness, one saw the red
glow of his pipe; by his side, huddled up on a sail, lay a sleeping boy.
The other boat seemed deserted. Ferdinand and Valentia stood for a long
time watching the fisher, and he was so still that they wondered whether
he too were sleeping. They looked across the sea, and in the distance
saw the dim lights of Marken, the island of fishers. They wandered on
again through the street, and now the lights in the windows were
extinguished one by one, and sleep came over the town; and the
quietness was even greater than before. They walked on, and their
footsteps made no sound. They felt them