I sighed; slowly, slowly growing back again, out of the inhuman white glamour and that silver distance.... “Are there,” I asked, a little absently, “any glow-worms in this place?” “Further inland, perhaps,” he said. Very gently, he drew me round to face the cottages. A warmer, dimmer, rosier light streamed through the door of the kitchen, where we caught the pinky round globe of the lamp, the gleam of the white cloth, the small, dark, cosy shape of Mrs. Roberts moving to and fro, setting, with a little chinking of plates and forks, our supper. She came to the door and called in her insidious voice, “_Mae’n barod rwan, sir!_” “That means it’s ready now,” said Billy softly. “Come in, dear. Yes—those lights are outward-bound, Nancy. But you—you’re anchored, aren’t you? All fast?” “Ah, but as I love to be,” I said, this time with a happy sigh; and turned—to his breast. He clasped me, crushing against my neck a kiss that has left there, rosy and distinct, the impression of a chain.... It’s that slender gold chain which holds the little oval pendant framing a christening-curl. His mother fastened that gift beneath the white shimmer of my bridal-gown this morning. And I remember something that she said when first she offered it. Presently, I shall tell my husband what it was. THE END _Printed at The Chapel River Press, Kingston, Surrey._ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of His Official Fiancée, by Berta Ruck