per and stir of life in the rustling trees when the road crossed
some belt of woods; there was a look of blind, creeping life about the
clustering shadows in stretches of moonlight, and the low-hanging moon
above the dark fields they passed was a living thing, too, the most
alive of all. Judith stirred in her corner, and turned and looked at
it.

"It's sweet," she said. "And it's ours. It's still May. But we can't
wish on the moon now; it's too late. And I don't want to wish, I'm so
comfortable. Aren't you? Well, you needn't answer, then, and you needn't
hold my hand." She had felt for a hand that avoided hers. With a sleepy,
satisfied laugh, like a petted kitten purring, she settled herself
again, with her head against an unresponsive shoulder, and pulled an
unresponsive arm round her waist.

"You aren't as soft as the cushions--not nearly. You're pretty hard, but
I like you. I was afraid to come, but now----"

"Now what?"

"There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm so happy. There's nobody in the
world but you and me. Neil, I'm going to sleep."

"All right. Shut your eyes, then, and don't keep staring at me. What
makes your eyes so bright?"

[Illustration: "'_Shut your eyes_'"]

"You."

"Shut your eyes."

"All right. Nobody but you and me."

They were really alone in the world now, alone in the heart of the
night. Their little murmur of talk, so low that they could just hear it
themselves, had been such a tiny trickle of sound that it did not quite
break the silence, and now it had died away. Asleep or awake, the
girl was quite still, with her cheek pressed against the boy's shoulder,
and her long-lashed eyes tight shut. The horse carried them over the
moonlit road at a rate of speed that did not seem possible from its
strange, loping gait. The effect of it was uncanny.

Boy and girl and queer, high-shouldered horse, darkly silhouetted in the
moonlight, lost to sight in the shadows of tall trees that looked taller
in the dark, and then coming silently into view again, were like dim,
flitting shadows in the night; like peculiarly helpless and
insignificant shadows, restless and purposeless. The moon, soft and far
away and still, seemed more alive than they did, and more competent to
adjust their affairs.

They required adjusting. That was in the watching brightness of the
girl's eyes, fluttering open once or twice, only to close quickly again,
in the tenseness of the boy's arm around her, in the set of his