with it. That was all nonsense
and rubbish. But, in spite of herself, Beryl saw so plainly two people
standing in the middle of her room. Her arms were round his neck; he
held her. And now he whispered, "My beauty, my little beauty!"
She jumped off her bed, ran over to the window and kneeled on the
window-seat, with her elbows on the sill. But the beautiful night, the
garden, every bush, every leaf, even the white palings, even the stars,
were conspirators too. So bright was the moon that the flowers were
bright as by day; the shadow of the nasturtiums, exquisite lily-like
leaves and wide-open flowers, lay across the silvery veranda. The
manuka-tree, bent by the southerly winds, was like a bird on one leg
stretching out a wing.

But when Beryl looked at the bush, it seemed to her the bush was sad.

"We are dumb trees, reaching up in the night, imploring we know not
what," said the sorrowful bush.

It is true when you are by yourself and you think about life, it is
always sad. All that excitement and so on has a way of suddenly leaving
you, and it's as though, in the silence, somebody called your name, and
you heard your name for the first time. "Beryl!"

"Yes, I'm here. I'm Beryl. Who wants me?"

"Beryl!"

"Let me come."

It is lonely living by oneself. Of course, there are relations, friends,
heaps of them; but that's not what she means. She wants some one who
will find the Beryl they none of them know, who will expect her to be
that Beryl always. She wants a lover.

"Take me away from all these other people, my love. Let us go far away.
Let us live our life, all new, all ours, from the very beginning. Let us
make our fire. Let us sit down to eat together. Let us have long talks
at night."

And the thought was almost, "Save me, my love. Save me!"

... "Oh, go on! Don't be a prude, my dear. You enjoy yourself while
you're young. That's my advice." And a high rush of silly laughter
joined Mrs. Harry Kember's loud, indifferent neigh.

You see, it's so frightfully difficult when you've nobody. You're so
at the mercy of things. You can't just be rude. And you've always this
horror of seeming inexperienced and stuffy like the other ninnies at the
Bay. And--and it's fascinating to know you've power over people. Yes,
that is fascinating...

Oh why, oh why doesn't "he" come soon?

If I go on living here, thought Beryl, anything may happen to me.

"But how do you know he is coming at all?" mocked a small voice