le shiver went through Stella. She said nothing and silence fell
between them again. The moon was rising behind a rugged line of
snow-hills across the valley, touching them here and there with a
silvery radiance, casting mysterious shadows all about them, sending a
magic twilight over the whole world so that they saw it dimly, as
through a luminous veil. The scent of Dacre's cigar hung in the air,
fragrant, aromatic, Eastern. He was sleepily watching his wife's pure
profile as she gazed into her world of dreams. It was evident that she
took small interest in Monck and his probable career. It was not
surprising. Monck was not the sort of man to attract women; he cared so
little about them--this silent watcher whose eyes were ever searching
below the surface of Eastern life, who studied and read and knew so much
more than any one else and yet who guarded knowledge and methods so
closely that only those in contact with his daily life suspected what he
hid.

"He will surprise us all some day," Dacre placidly reflected. "Those
quiet, ambitious chaps always soar high. But I wouldn't change places.
with him even if he wins to the top of the tree. People who make a
specialty of hard work never get any fun out of anything. By the time
the fun comes along, they are too old to enjoy it."

And so he lay at ease in his chair, feasting his eyes upon his young
wife's grave face, savouring life with the zest of the epicurean,
placidly at peace with all the world on that night of dreams.

It was growing late, and the moon had topped the distant peaks sending a
flood of light across the sleeping valley before he finally threw away
the stump of his cigar and stretched forth a lazy arm to draw her to
him.

"Why so silent, Star of my heart? Where are those wandering thoughts of
yours?"

She submitted as usual to his touch, passively, without enthusiasm. "My
thoughts are not worth expressing, Ralph," she said.

"Let us hear them all the same!" he said, laying his head against her
shoulder.

She sat very still in his hold. "I was only watching the moonlight," she
said. "Somehow it made me think--of a flaming sword."

"Turning all ways?" he suggested, indolently humorous. "Not driving us
forth out of the garden of Eden, I hope? That would be a little hard on
two such inoffensive mortals as we are, eh, sweetheart?"

"I don't know," she said seriously. "I doubt if the plea of
inoffensiveness would open the gates of Heaven to any one."