Ah, if he would whisper back those few words, there would be peace for ever. She laid her cheek against his, murmuring endearments. ‘My dear, my darling, my little one, I love you. My dear, I’ve always loved you. Did you know it?’ He shook his head faintly. ‘I love you too much, I’m afraid.’ Oh, far too much, if she was to wait in vain for any response save kisses.... ‘No, Judy, no.’ The words broke from him painfully. ‘You must forget about me now. Kiss me and say good-bye.’ ‘Why, oh, why?’ She clutched him desperately. ‘I’m going away,’ he whispered. ‘But you’ll come back? You’ll come back, Roddy?’ He was silent, utterly silent. ‘I can’t. I can’t,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll wait, Roddy. I don’t care how long I wait. I shall never want anyone else. I’ll wait years.’ There was no answer; and after a while she added in a small laboured whisper: ‘If you love me a little.’ ‘Oh!’ He threw up his head with a sort of groan. ‘Yes. Yes. Yes.’ ‘You love me?’ He must, he _must_ say it. ‘Yes, I love you.’ The words came out on a groaning breath. She put her lips on his, and stood silent, drinking in her bliss. He tossed his head suddenly, as if waking up. ‘Oh, Judy, we must go back, we must go back.’ He sighed and sighed. ‘No. A little longer. We’ll talk a little before we go. We must talk.’ He laughed--a normal teasing laugh. ‘A little conversation,’ he said. ‘You’re a tiger for conversation, aren’t you?’ ‘I don’t mind your laughing at me.’ They were going to laugh gaily at each other, with each other, for ever. He put his hand beneath her chin and turned her face up to his. ‘Lovely Judy. Lovely dark eyes.... Oh, your mouth. I’ve wanted to kiss it for years.’ ‘Oh, Roddy, you can kiss it whenever you want to. I love you to kiss me. All of me belongs to you.’ He muttered a brief ‘Oh!’ beneath his breath, and seized her, clasped her wildly. She could neither move nor breathe; her long hair broke from its last pins and fell down her back, and he lifted her up and carried her beneath the unstirring willow-trees. * * * * * He had brought her back home. Languorous and bemused she stepped out upon the bank in the breaking dawn, and turned to look at him beneath her heavy lids. She could not see him clearly, he seemed blurred, far away. ‘Good-bye,’ he said briefly. ‘I’ll see you before you go,’ she said mechanically. Not that it really mattered now. Time was not any more and he would be with her for ever. He nodded; and then abruptly turned the canoe down stream again: looked at her once, faintly smiled, waved his hand an instant and went on. She walked through the waiting, clear pale-coloured garden, into the house, up to her bedroom; stared in the dim glass at her strange face; sank into bed at last. 4