It troubled Jonah that she would not look at him. “I did not go away to amuse myself,” he said simply. And he added in a lower voice, “Did you miss me?” “Yes, I suppose so. At least ... I have been so busy. What hot days these have been.” “I went to Bethel,” said Jonah. He wondered how to go on; he was puzzled and depressed. This was not as he had thought it would be. “Didn’t you know?” “No.... Did you prophesy again? What is going to happen now? My goodness, you prophets, you are always going about. “I suppose you will be going back to the desert soon.” Jonah stared at her. She kept her head down, and her hands twisted together. He began to feel as he did sometimes before God spoke to him, still and empty inside, with a terrible stillness, waiting for something. “Judith,” he half whispered. “Yes, Jonah,” she said, looking up at him, for only a moment, and then looking away again. “All the time I was gone, I thought of only one thing. I remembered only one thing.” “Yes, Jonah?”--ever so faintly. “That night in the garden, and the white moon in the trees like a bird in the branches.... “Do you remember?” Judith looked away. “That seems like so long ago, doesn’t it?” she answered. “‘Long ago’?” cried Jonah, and his heart sank. “Why, it is no more than seven days ... Judith, have you forgotten?” “No,” murmured Judith unhappily; “but I do not exactly remember....” “You said you loved me,” he cried, in a voice which sounded like a croak. She put the backs of her hands to her two cheeks, and whispered with bent head, “What must you think of me?” “But,” stammered Jonah. Words would not come; he stood staring at her, eyes wide with unbelief. “Forgive me,” she said calmly. “You can understand ... I hardly knew what I was doing. Do not think too badly of me.” Jonah did not move or speak. But within him there were voices enough, too many. “What? I do not believe it. It is impossible. No, it is not impossible. Well, it has happened. But such things cannot happen ... to you, Jonah, to you....” He was still, waiting for the clamor to subside, for the voices to reduce themselves to one voice. He was afraid to move even; bewildered, horrified, he was like a man clinging with his finger-tips to the edge of a precipice. If he moved ... if even a little earth slid from under his fingers.... No, he must keep very still; not a word, not a motion ... then it would all turn out right again.... It was Judith who moved, and spoke. Coming forward a step, she laid her hand timidly on his arm. “You will forgive me,” she said. “You have work to do in the world. You must go on, you must be a great prophet for my sake. I am going to be married. I shall be so proud of you.” And turning, she ran back to meet Sarah, who was hurrying out of the house after her.