broke into a laugh. “No, I don’t want to—but perhaps I should if you did!”
“That’s what I told you—you’re so sure of me that you can amuse yourself with experiments.” She drew back the hand he had regained, and sat looking down on him sadly.
“I am not making experiments,” he returned. “Or if I am, it is not on you but on myself. I don’t know what effect they are going to have on me—but if marrying you is one of them, I will take the risk.”
She smiled faintly. “It would be a great risk, certainly—I have never concealed from you how great.”
“Ah, it’s you who are the coward!” he exclaimed.
She had risen, and he stood facing her with his eyes on hers. The soft isolation of the falling day enveloped them: they seemed lifted into a finer air. All the exquisite influences of the hour trembled in their veins, and drew them to each other as the loosened leaves were drawn to the earth.
“It’s you who are the coward,” he repeated, catching her hands in his.
She leaned on him for a moment, as if with a drop of tired wings: he felt as though her heart were beating rather with the stress of a long flight than the thrill of new distances. Then, drawing back with a little smile of warning—“I shall look hideous in dowdy clothes; but I can trim my own hats,” she declared.
They stood silent for a while after this, smiling at each other like adventurous children who have climbed to a forbidden height from which they discover a new world. The actual world at their feet was veiling itself in dimness, and across the valley a clear moon rose in the denser blue.
Suddenly they heard a remote sound, like the hum of a giant insect, and following the highroad, which wound whiter through the surrounding twilight, a black object rushed across their vision.
Lily started from her attitude of absorption; her smile faded and she began to move toward the lane.
“I had no idea it was so late! We shall not be back till after dark,” she said, almost impatiently.
Selden was looking at her with surprise: it took him a moment to regain his usual view of her; then he said, with an uncontrollable note of dryness: “That was not one of our party; the motor was going the other way.”
“I know—I know–” She paused, and he saw her redden through the twilight. “But I told them I was not well—that I should not go out. Let us go down!” she murmured.
Selden continued to look at her; then he drew his cigarette-case from his pocket and slowly lit a cigarette. It seemed to him necessary, at that moment, to proclaim, by some habitual gesture of this sort, his recovered hold on the actual: he had an almost puerile wish to let his companion see that, their flight over, he had landed on his feet.
She waited while the spark flickered under his curved palm; then he held out the cigarettes to her.
She took one with an unsteady hand, and putting it to her lips, leaned forward to draw her light from his. In the indistinctness the little red gleam lit up the lower part of her face, and he saw her mouth tremble into a smile.
“Were you serious?” she asked, with an odd thrill of gaiety which she might have caught up, in haste, from a heap of stock inflections, without having time to select the just note. Selden’s voice was under better control. “Why not?” he returned. “You see I took no risks in being so.” And as she continued to stand before him, a little pale under the retort, he added quickly: “Let us go down.”
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