elated by their own good fortune, there was not much need to
say what they felt, to break with words this rapture of belonging to each
other--so shyly, so wildly, so, as it were, without reality. They were
like epicures with old wine in their glasses, not yet tired of its
fragrance and the spell of anticipation.

And so their talk was not of love, but, in that pathetic way of
star-crossed lovers, of the things they loved; leaving out--each other.

It was the telling of her dream that brought the words from him at last;
but she drew away, and answered:

"It can't--it mustn't be!"

Then he just clung to her hand; and presently, seeing that her eyes were
wet, took courage enough to kiss her cheek.

Trembling and fugitive indeed that first passage of their love. Not much
of the conquering male in him, nor in her of the ordinary enchantress.

And then they went, outwardly sober enough, riding their mules down the
stony slopes back to Mentone.

But in the grey, dusty railway-carriage when she had left him, he was
like a man drugged, staring at where she had sat opposite.

Two hours later, at dinner in her hotel, between her and Mrs. Ercott,
with the Colonel opposite, he knew for the first time what he was faced
with. To watch every thought that passed within him, lest it should by
the slightest sign betray him; to regulate and veil every look and every
word he spoke to her; never for a second to forget that these other
persons were actual and dangerous, not merely the insignificant and
grotesque shadows that they seemed. It would be perhaps for ever a part
of his love for her to seem not to love her. He did not dare dream of
fulfilment. He was to be her friend, and try to bring her
happiness--burn and long for her, and not think about reward. This was
his first real overwhelming passion--so different to the loves of
spring--and he brought to it all that naivete, that touching quality of
young Englishmen, whose secret instinct it is to back away from the full
nature of love, even from admitting that it has that nature. They two
were to love, and--not to love! For the first time he understood a
little of what that meant. A few stolen adoring minutes now and then,
and, for the rest, the presence of a world that must be deceived. Already
he had almost a hatred of that orderly, brown-faced Colonel, with his
eyes that looked so steady and saw nothing; of that flat, kindly lady,
who talked so pleasantly throughout d