She bit her lip, and then, as the old college bell rang out nine sharp strokes she laid her arms swiftly about his neck and his cheek quivered under her warm soft hair. "You are right," she whispered, "after to-day--everything!" The streets were no longer empty. They sat, separate, with whirling hearts, trembling under the mounting moon. They were in the familiar street. . . . "After to-day--after to-day!" he muttered dizzily, when suddenly she laughed out beside him, sobbed brokenly, then laughed again. "To-day is the first of April!" she cried. And once again the polished moon threw her needless glory over youth and love and laughter. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Idyll of All Fools' Day, by Josephine Daskam Bacon