n sounds of traffic very
remote. The wetness of the night severed them from humanity. They needed
no blue Pacific haven to enrich their love. They perceived no omen in
the desolation of the London night.

"What times we shall have together," said Maurice.

"Shall we?" the girl replied.

"It's all happened so exactly right."

"It does sometimes," said Jenny.

The horse pawed the road, impatient of the loitering. The driver knocked
out the ashes of his pipe on the roof.

"I _must_ go now," she said.

"Must you?"

"Yes."

"One more kiss."

To Maurice each kiss of Jenny's seemed a first kiss.

"Isn't it glorious?" he exclaimed.

"What?"

"Oh, everything--life and London and you and I."

He stood in the road and lifted her on to the pavement.

"Good night, my Jenny."

"Good night."

"To-morrow?"

"Rather."

"Good night. Bless you."

"Bless _you_," she murmured. Then, surprised by herself, she ran through
the rain as swift as the shadow of a cloud, while the horse trotted
southward with a dreaming passenger.

Chapter XIV: _Rain on the Roof_

Upstairs in the room she shared with May, Jenny sat before the glass
combing her hair, while outside the rain poured down with volume
increasing every moment. The wash of water through the black, soundless
night, lent the little room, with its winking candle, a comfortable
security. The gentle breathing of May and the swish of the hairbrush
joined the stream of rain without in a monotone of whisperings that
sighed endless round Jenny's vivid thoughts. Suddenly she sprang from
her reverie, and, pulling up the blind with a rattle, flung open the
window to dip her hands into the wet darkness. May sat up, wild-eyed
from sleep. The candle gasped and fluttered.

"Whatever is it?" cried May.

"Oh, Maisie, Maisie," said her sister; "it's raining real kisses
to-night. It is, really."

"Have you gone mad?"

"Oh, let me get into bed quick and dream. Oh, May, I'd go mad to dream
to-night."

And soon the rain washed down unheard, where Jenny, lying still as
coral, dreamed elusive ardors, ghostly ecstasies.

Chapter XV: _Cras Amet_

The next morning sunlight shone in upon Jenny's rose-dyed awakening.
Flushed with dreams, she blinked, murmuring in sleepy surprise:

"Oo--er! if it isn't a fine day."

"It's glorious," corroborated May emphatically.

"Oh, it's lovely; let's all wave flags."

"You were a mad thing last night," said May.

"Don