f anything, that Moira loved Kenneth. At
the sound of his voice, light would come to her eyes and color to her
face and her hand would fly to her breast as if there wasn't enough air
in the world for her to breathe. Yet there was something else, too. She
was always sort of escaping from him and then coming back to him like a
half-tamed bird, and all the time he came nearer and nearer to her
heart. All the time he had more of her thoughts. He fought for them.

He loved her. It seemed he understood her. He sensed all that was in her
heart, the way one does with those we love. He'd look at her sometimes
with such anxious eyes as if he was afraid for her, as if he wanted to
save her from something. I couldn't blame him. I'd felt that way myself,
but I'd gotten used to her ways.

Now I saw all over again that there was strange thoughts in her
heart--thoughts that don't rightly belong in the kind of world we live
in now.

It seems queer to you, I suppose, and kind of crazy, but I couldn't
someway see what would become of Moira without "her good." If you'd
lived with her the way I did all those years you'd have seen something
beautiful reflected in her like the reflection of a star in a little
pool at evening, only I couldn't see the star myself, just the
reflection of it, but she saw the star.

I couldn't blame Kenneth; he wanted for her all the things I'd wanted
for her always--and I couldn't bring myself to feel that the reflection
of a star was better than the warm light of the fire from the hearth,
but it was the star that had made her so lovely.

All this time Mis' MacFarland talked liked nothing was going on and all
the time I knew she was watchin'. I'd try and sound her and she'd manage
not to answer.

There came a time when I couldn't hold in. Moira'd been out all day on
the dunes and toward night the fog had swept over us.

She came back out of the fog with a look on her face like a lost soul. I
knew what had happened--I knew what was wrong--yet I couldn't help
crying out:

"What's the matter?"

She just looked at me the way animals do when they suffer and can't
understand. Her mouth was white and her eyes were dark, as if she was in
pain, and when Kenneth came she ran to him as if she would have thrown
herself in his arms to hide. They went out on the porch and that was
when I could hold in no longer.

"What do you think about it?" I asked Mis' MacFarland right plain out.

"About what?" she asked.

I