smiling, forlornly humorous, and displaying a book as symbol of her
own insomnia.

"Can't you sleep?" she asked. "We'll both be dead in the morning. I
thought I'd better tell you to go to sleep when I saw your light break
out.... So I've come to tell you."

"How could you see that my window was lighted?"

"I was leaning out of my window listening to the little owl, and
suddenly I saw the light from yours fall criss-cross across the
grass.... Can't you sleep?"

"Yes. I'll turn out the light. Will _you_ promise to go to sleep?"

"If I can. The night is so beautiful--"

With a gay little smile and gesture she turned away; but halfway down
the corridor she hesitated and looked back at him.

"If you are sleepless," she called softly, "you may wake me and I'll
talk to you."

There was a window at the end of the corridor. He saw her continue on
past her door and stand there looking out into the garden. She was
still standing there when he closed his door and went back to his
chair.

The night seemed interminable; its moonlit fragrance unendurable. With
sleepless eyes he gazed into the darkness, appalled at the
future--fearing such nights to come--nights like this, alone with
her; and the grim battle to be renewed, inexorably renewed until that
day should come--if ever it was to come--when he dared take in the
name of God what Destiny had already made his own, and was now
clamouring for him to take.

After a long while he rose from the window, went to his door again,
opened it and looked out. And saw her still leaning against the window
at the corridor's dim end.

She looked around, laughing softly as he came up: "All this--the
night, the fragrance, and you, have hopelessly bewitched me. I can't
sleep; I don't wish to.... But you, poor boy--you haven't even
undressed. You look very tired and white, Clive. Why is it you can't
sleep?"

He did not answer.

"Shall I get my book and read aloud to you? It's silly stuff--love,
and such things. Shall I?"

"No--I'm going back," he answered curtly.

She glanced around at him curiously. For, that day, a new
comprehension of men and their various humours had come to enlighten
her; she had begun to understand even where she could not feel.

And so, tenderly, gently, in shy sympathy with the powerful currents
that swept this man beside her,--but still herself ignorant of their
power, she laid her cool cheek against his, drawing his head closer.

"Dearest--dearest--" s