on the sand . . .
the rest were around . . . under the tent . . . my arm was out . . .
just like this. . . ."

The young man put a hand to his forehead. "Good Lord!" I heard him say,
"the amphitheatre!"

"Come, sir," I interrupted, "I think we have had enough of this
jugglery."

But the girl's voice went on steadily as if repeating a lesson:--

"And then you came--"

"_I!_" His voice rang sharply, and I saw a horror dawn in his eyes, and
grow. "_I!_"

"And then you came," she repeated, and broke off, her mind suddenly at
fault. Automatically he began to sway the daisy-chain afresh. "We were
on board a ship . . . a funny ship . . . with a great high stern. . . ."

"Is this the same story?" he asked, lowering his voice almost to a
whisper; and I could hear his breath going and coming.

"I don't know . . . one minute I see clear, and then it all gets mixed
up again . . . we were up there, stretched on deck, near the tiller
. . . another ship was chasing us . . . the men began to row, with long
sweeps. . . ."

"But the sand," he insisted, "is the sand there?"

"The sand? . . . Yes, I see the sand again . . . we are standing upon it
. . . we and the crew . . . the sea is close behind us . . . some men
have hold of me . . . they are trying to pull me away from you. . . .
Ah!--"

And I declare to you that with a sob the poor girl dropped on her knees,
there in the aisle, and clasped the young man about the ankles, bowing
her forehead upon the insteps of his high boots. As for him, I cannot
hope to describe his face to you. There was something more in it than
wonder--something more than dismay, even--at the success of his
unhallowed experiment. It was as though, having prepared himself
light-heartedly to witness a play, he was seized and terrified to find
himself the principal actor. I never saw ghastlier fear on human
cheeks.

"For God's sake, sir," I cried, stamping my foot, "relax your cursed
spells! Relax them and leave us! This is a house of prayer."

He put a hand under the girl's chin, and, raising her face, made a pass
or two, still with the daisy-chain in his hand. She looked about her,
shivered and stood erect. "Where am I?" she asked. "Did I fall?
What are you doing with my chain?" She had relapsed into her habitual
childishness of look and speech.

I hurried them from the church, resolutely locked the door, and marched
up the path without deigning a glance at the young man. But I h