!" Perhaps he would dare say that to-morrow. Lying there he still
felt a little funny. He had forgotten to close the ribs of the blinds,
and moonlight was filtering in; but he was too idle, too drowsy to get
up now and do it. They had given him brandy, rather a lot--that perhaps
was the reason he felt so queer; not ill, but mazy, as if dreaming, as
if he had lost the desire ever to move again. Just to lie there, and
watch the powdery moonlight, and hear faraway music throbbing down
below, and still feel the touch of her, as in the dance she swayed
against him, and all the time to have the scent about him of flowers!
His thoughts were dreams, his dreams thoughts--all precious unreality.
And then it seemed to him that the moonlight was gathered into a single
slip of pallor--there was a thrumming, a throbbing, and that shape of
moonlight moved towards him. It came so close that he felt its warmth
against his brow; it sighed, hovered, drew back soundless, and was gone.
He must have fallen then into dreamless sleep....

What time was it when he was awakened by that delicate 'rat-tat' to see
his tutor standing in the door-way with a cup of tea?

Was young Lennan all right? Yes, he was perfectly all right--would be
down directly! It was most frightfully good of Mr. Stormer to come! He
really didn't want anything.

Yes, yes; but the maimed and the halt must be attended to!

His face seemed to the boy very kind just then--only to laugh at him a
very little--just enough. And it was awfully decent of him to have come,
and to stand there while he drank the tea. He was really all right, but
for a little headache. Many times while he was dressing he stood still,
trying to remember. That white slip of moonlight? Was it moonlight?
Was it part of a dream; or was it, could it have been she, in her
moonlight-coloured frock? Why had he not stayed awake? He would not dare
to ask her, and now would never know whether the vague memory of warmth
on his brow had been a kiss.

He breakfasted alone in the room where they had danced. There were two
letters for him. One from his guardian enclosing money, and complaining
of the shyness of the trout; the other from his sister. The man she
was engaged to--he was a budding diplomat, attached to the Embassy at
Rome--was afraid that his leave was going to be curtailed. They would
have to be married at once. They might even have to get a special
licence. It was lucky Mark was coming back so soon. They