er, since the previous afternoon melted a little
further, and their contact became more and more natural. Up through the
sultry southern landscape they saw the world they knew appear clearer
and more vividly than it had ever appeared before As upon that occasion
at the hotel when she had sat in the window, the world once more
arranged itself beneath her gaze very vividly and in its true
proportions. She glanced curiously at Terence from time to time,
observing his grey coat and his purple tie; observing the man with whom
she was to spend the rest of her life.

After one of these glances she murmured, "Yes, I'm in love. There's no
doubt; I'm in love with you."

Nevertheless, they remained uncomfortably apart; drawn so close
together, as she spoke, that there seemed no division between them, and
the next moment separate and far away again. Feeling this painfully, she
exclaimed, "It will be a fight."

But as she looked at him she perceived from the shape of his eyes, the
lines about his mouth, and other peculiarities that he pleased her, and
she added:

"Where I want to fight, you have compassion. You're finer than I am;
you're much finer."

He returned her glance and smiled, perceiving, much as she had done, the
very small individual things about her which made her delightful to
him. She was his for ever. This barrier being surmounted, innumerable
delights lay before them both.

"I'm not finer," he answered. "I'm only older, lazier; a man, not a
woman."

"A man," she repeated, and a curious sense of possession coming over
her, it struck her that she might now touch him; she put out her hand
and lightly touched his cheek. His fingers followed where hers had been,
and the touch of his hand upon his face brought back the overpowering
sense of unreality. This body of his was unreal; the whole world was
unreal.

"What's happened?" he began. "Why did I ask you to marry me? How did it
happen?"

"Did you ask me to marry you?" she wondered. They faded far away from
each other, and neither of them could remember what had been said.

"We sat upon the ground," he recollected.

"We sat upon the ground," she confirmed him. The recollection of sitting
upon the ground, such as it was, seemed to unite them again, and they
walked on in silence, their minds sometimes working with difficulty and
sometimes ceasing to work, their eyes alone perceiving the things round
them. Now he would attempt again to tell her his faults, and