After dinner he went at once to the piazza and sat smoking slowly, watching the moon rise, sufficiently companioned in knowing that he was to see Anne on the morrow, so content in this strange, new conviction of the possession of her that he was satisfied to delay the joy of seeing her in the effulgence of this new light. As long as he knew it was but delayed! If he were not going to see her thus that would be another, a tragic matter! Kit went to bed early and slept like a tired, happy boy, and arose early to begin another happy day; an endless succession of such days stretched out ahead of him, to that inconceivable day when Anne and he should be old. He was disappointed when, in the afternoon, he went to Latham Street, to be told that the poet, with Miss Dallas, had gone in Richard’s small car, driven by Stetson, to visit the falls, which were the point of pilgrimage for all strangers who came to Cleavedge. The falls were some miles distant, where the river gathered itself together and hurled itself down over rocks. “Well, it’s a fine day to go there, and the falls are still swollen by the spring rains,” said Kit, sorry for himself, but resigned to others’ better luck. “I wanted to tell Miss Dallas--and Mr. Latham--that I stopped at Mrs. Berkley’s on my way here, and that the little girl has not an unfavourable symptom. It’s quite certain now that she will live. You might tell Mr. Latham when he comes in, if you will, please. I’ll see Miss Dallas to-night at her boarding place.” Mrs. Lumley, the housekeeper, Minerva’s gossip, who happened to be in the hall when Kit sounded the knocker, and so had exceeded her obligations and opened the door, looked at him with significant commiseration. “Miss Dallas is going to dine here to-night, Mr. Carrington,” she said. “Mr. Latham is going to pick up an elderly lady who he’s great friends with, and bring her to dinner with him to-night. And Miss Dallas is to come with ’em.” There was a note in Mrs. Lumley’s voice that arrested Kit’s attention, but then he was not familiar with her voice, and it glanced off the surface of his mind as it vibrated against it. “I’m disappointed to hear that,” said Kit, “but it’s pleasanter for Miss Dallas. It’s a tiresome trip to the falls and Miss Dallas finds it a bore, at best, to board. I did hope to see her! Oh, well, one more day! And there are many days.” He smiled the smile that made everybody his friend and turned to go, saying “good-day” to Mrs. Lumley.