But Hugh scarcely heard her. He was listening to Ariel’s laughter and to Schwankovsky’s exuberant flattery and affection up by the door. And then—oh heavenly!—to Ariel’s voice, pebble-cool: “No, never on the stage! But always for you, when you want. When you come to visit us—me.” But she had meant “us,” and Hugh knew that “us” meant _them_, himself and Ariel. “... To-morrow then? A walk in the woods? I’ll have something quite wonderful to tell you, Joan dear.” He had not understood her whispered surrender. And he was not aware that she had taken the end of her scarf from his fingers and was wrapping her bare shoulders now as if she were cold. She tried only once more. “Hugh! Suppose I don’t go to-morrow! I’m quite out of the mood to-night. Why should I go? With Holly never so beautiful, and all my friends, my _dearest_ friends, here?” His answer to that astounded her, in spite of all that had happened to her ego this night, by its simple cruelty. “I know it! Why should you go? It’s heaven on earth right here. Why should any one leave it? This night is—I never knew a night like this! It is wild—it is _wild_, Joan dear, with beauty and wonderfulness! I wouldn’t go to heaven to-morrow if all the angels invited me.” She stood away from him. “Hugh! Are you aware of me at all?” she cried, but under her breath. “Do you realize that I said I might give up Switzerland? _And why I should want to give it up?_” “Holly, you said, is so beautiful.... But Joan....” He was appalled. But then, before he allowed himself quite to understand her—and he had very nearly allowed that misfortune to them both to happen—he said quickly, “You mustn’t think of me, my dear. Or pity me. Ever! You were awfully right in all you said at Fernly. Remember? And our friendship, yours and mine, _is_ going to be deeper and sounder than ever. It is enriched.” And then, forgetting her again, he exclaimed, “Everything’s enriched. Even the moonlight. It’s magic, isn’t it, Joan? Wild with loveliness!” Before he got finally off with his Ariel, Hugh remembered that Glenn had lost his latchkey lately and not replaced it yet. So he’d better find him—he seemed to have vanished into the house—and give him his. He did not interrupt Ariel and Schwankovsky in their protracted farewells up at the door, but went around by the terrace to enter by the drawing-room windows.