All at once there was much laughter and talk and greeting, and she was drawn out of their exquisite aloofness into the voluble every-day circle. Martin stretched an eager hand and out she stepped from the canoe among them all. Half-dazed, she saw shadows of men standing round, appearing and fading as in a dream, felt dream-like touches of men’s hands; heard unreal voices bidding good-evening to Judith; was conscious of dim confusion of movement towards the house. Did her own face rise so wanly against the darkness, deep-shadowed under the features, a firm-cut austere mask? Beneath the masks the hidden eyes held now and then a straying gleam from the fairy-lanterns. It was all so nearly a sleeper’s dream that to speak audibly seemed a vast effort. Roddy strolled up from the river’s edge, having made fast the boat. He came close and stood behind her shoulder, just touching it; and at once the dream broke and every pulse was alert. They went into the house for supper. Tomato-sandwiches and cake, fruit-salad and bananas and cream, lemonade and cider-cup loaded the table. Martin had prepared the whole thing himself with a passion of judicious greed. Tony Baring sat opposite and stared with liquid expressive blue eyes. He had a sensitive face, changing all the time, a wide mouth with beautiful sensuous lips, thick black hair and a broad white forehead with the eyebrows meeting above the nose, strongly marked and mobile. When he spoke he moved them, singly or together. His voice was soft and precious, and he had a slight lisp. He looked like a young poet. Suddenly she noticed his hands,--thin unmasculine hands,--queer hands--making nervous appealing ineffectual gestures that contradicted the nobility of his head. She heard him call Roddy ‘my dear’; and once ‘darling’; and had a passing shock. There was a submerged excitement in the room. Mariella’s absence had noticeable effect: there was a lightness of wit, an ebullience of talk and laughter; gay quick voices answering each other. The polished table was blotted over with pools of red candleshade, and pale pools from the white tulips picked in honour of the guest. The great mirror opposite reflected the table with all its muted colours; reflected too the back of Tony’s broad head and a bit of Roddy in curious profile, and her own face, lustrous-eyed, dark-lipped, long of neck and mysterious. When she looked at it she thought it was transfigured; and she knew who made the electric feeling. It was time to go home. But Roddy got up and started the gramophone; then caught her by the hand and led her out on the verandah. ‘One dance,’ he said. ‘And then I must go.’ ‘You dance better than ever to-night.’ ‘It’s because I’m so enjoying myself.’ He laughed and tightened his arm round her. ‘Judy----’ ‘Yes? Oh, Roddy, I do love it when you say “Judy.” Nobody else says it like you.’ He bent his face to look into her lifted one with a soft hidden smile. ‘What were you going to say?’ she asked.