The house was swimming in the light of the western moon. Its strange curves and bulges, its kiln-shaped ends, and great waving sprawl of roof all shone in a white glassy brilliance, which was somehow akin to peace. There was a soft flutter of wind in the orchard and in the sentinel poplars, while now and then came that distant night-purged scrap of song: "Soles, plaice, and dabs, Rate, skate, and crabs. God save the Queen!" Rose wondered uneasily what time it was. Surely it could not be very late, and yet the house was shut up and the windows dark. She gently rattled the door-handle. There was no denying it--the house was locked up. It must be later than she thought--that walk on the Rother levels must have been longer than it had seemed to her thirsty love. A thrill of fear went through her. She hoped Reuben would not be angry. She was his dutiful wife. She stood hesitating on the doorstep. Should she knock? Then a terrible thought struck her. Reuben must have meant to lock her out. Otherwise he would have sat up for her, however late she had been. She started trembling all over, and felt her skin grow damp. She began to knock, first softly, then more desperately. She must get in. Nothing was to be heard except her own despairing din--the house seemed plunged in sleep. Rose's fear grew, spread black bat's wings, and darkened all her thoughts--for she knew that someone must have heard her, she could not make all this racket quite unheard. What could she do? Caro slept at the back of the house, and it struck her that she had better go round, and throw up some earth at her window. Perhaps Caro would let her in. She stepped back from the door, and was just turning the corner of the house when a window suddenly shot open above her, and Reuben's tousled head looked out. "There's no use your trying to git in." Rose gave a faint scream. In the moonlight her husband's face looked distorted, while his voice came thick and unnatural. "Ben!" "Go away. Go away to where you've come from. I shan't let you in." "You can't keep me out here. It isn't my fault I'm late--and I'm not so very late, either." "It's one o'clock o' the marnun." She felt her heart grow sick. If she had been happy for four hours, why, in God's name, had they not passed like four hours instead of like four minutes? "Ben, I swear I didn't know. I was up to no harm, I promise you. Please, please--oh please let me in!" "Not I--at one o'clock o' the marnun--after you've bin all night wud a----" "Ben, I swear I'm your true wife." She fell against the wall, and her hair, disordered by embraces, suddenly streamed over her shoulders. The sight of it made Reuben wild. "Git off--before I täake my gun and shoot you." "Oh, Ben!..." "Höald your false tongue. You're no wife o' mine from this day forrard. I wöan't be cuckolded in my own house." His face was swollen, his eyes rolled--he looked almost as if he had been drinking.