They both fell silent. He felt that there was only one thing that he could talk about, and he didn’t know when or where to start. He wanted above all things to say nothing only to take her in his arms; to kiss her lips, her hair, her hands and to kneel to the little sandaled feet that peeped out from below her queenly robe. He hardly dared to look at her lest, then and there, he should leave the wheel and do it. All that his heart asked was to be allowed to touch and reverence her. As he stared between the rushing eyes of the car, watching the road ahead, his imagination painted pictures on the darkness. He saw her lifting her arms about his neck. He saw her lying close against his breast. He heard her whispering broken phrases--words which said so much by leaving so much unsaid. But whenever he stole a glance at her, he saw her gray eyes closed like a statue’s and her white hands folded. He was wasting time--it would so soon be morning. She was going to America. She must not go, and yet he was helping her. If he could only find words to tell her. He had never thought it would be so difficult. Ah, but then he had imagined a child-Desire, just grown a little taller. But this Desire was different--so self-possessed and calm, with so many new interests and unknown friends estranging her from the faery-Desire of the farmhouse garden. They passed through Wells, where the cathedral lay like a gigantic coffin beneath the stars. Having panted up the steep ascent beyond the town, they commenced the twenty-mile downhill run to Bath. He heard a stirring beside him. Her eyes were open, quite near to his and shining with friendliness. “What’s the matter? We’ve both gone silent.” “I thought you were tired, so I didn’t disturb you.” “Tired! Perhaps I was. But I’m all right now. Isn’t it magic with all the stars, and the mist and the being away from every one? Don’t you want to smoke? Here, I’ll hold the wheel while you light a cigarette. Yes, I know how.” She leant across him to do it, her shoulder resting against his arm. The wind of their going fluttered her hair against his cheek. For a moment he was possessed with a mad longing to crush her to him. “Haven’t you a match?” She seemed utterly unconscious of her power to charm; yet instinctively she used it. “All right?” she asked. “I wonder whether you’d mind----” Her finger went up to her mouth and her gray eyes coaxed him. “I shouldn’t mind anything.” She shook her head emphatically. “No. I won’t do it. People remember first impressions. You’d think me fast.” “I shouldn’t I couldn’t ever think that.” “Are you sure? Well, may I----?” She made a gesture imitative of withdrawing a cigarette from her lips. “I don’t smoke often--only when I feel like it. And, oh, I do feel so happy to-night.”