es and teeth of the negroes, the wraith of her living self
would sit at his side, radiant in the dress that she had worn last
night. "Real as you'll seem to me," he said, "I sha'n't have to worry
about the striped mosquitoes stinging you on the shoulders; and when we
others go plodding along, no helmet or terai need hide that hair of
yours. Since you'll be made of my thoughts, you'll be invulnerable.
You'll catch up your little train to run across a field of ferns in
pursuit of some small, inquisitive wild beast. When the tribes make
dances for us, they won't know that a beautiful white lady, in a golden
decollete gown, is seated before them, as happy as if that hullabaloo
were a ballet by Stravinsky."

In the twilight, by a road hemmed in with sumac, they came to a small,
rustic restaurant, which perched on a cliff above the waters of the
Sound. An old waiter led them between empty tables to a veranda
overlooking the waves. He seated them by the railing, along which
trailed a honeysuckle vine.

They had come for tea or for dinner?

"Dinner!" exclaimed Lawrence. "Here, take this, and carry your sane
and practical face away. Wait, you might bring us some tea." He
reached across the table to feel her hand, which was as cold as ice.
"I've frozen you!"

"No," she returned, almost inaudibly.

The odor of the honeysuckle was mingled with the smell of the sea. The
old waiter came and departed like a shade. They were alone on the
veranda, above the waves over which the rising moon had just thrown a
silver net.

But it was a beam of light from the doorway that illuminated the angles
of his face, at which she looked with a sensation of faintness. She
bent her neck; her hat brim concealed her eyes.

By this time to-morrow!

"Let me hear your voice," he pleaded. "At least I'll fill my mind with
those tones; and when I'm alone I can put them together into the words,
'I love you.'"

As if conjured up by this utterance, a breeze swept over them, full of
the fragrance of honeysuckle and the acridity of the sea, like the
immense, soft breath with which nature blows upon the kindled human
heart, fanning it into a sudden conflagration. And the rustling
of the vines, together with the murmur of the water, expanded into
a sigh which seemed to issue from the multitude of lovers who
somewhere--everywhere--at that moment, were swaying toward the
irresistible embrace; and from the innumerable flowers of the earth, in
t