He loved her. It seemed he understood her. He sensed all that was in her heart, the way one does with those we love. He'd look at her sometimes with such anxious eyes as if he was afraid for her, as if he wanted to save her from something. I couldn't blame him. I'd felt that way myself, but I'd gotten used to her ways. Now I saw all over again that there was strange thoughts in her heart--thoughts that don't rightly belong in the kind of world we live in now. It seems queer to you, I suppose, and kind of crazy, but I couldn't someway see what would become of Moira without "her good." If you'd lived with her the way I did all those years you'd have seen something beautiful reflected in her like the reflection of a star in a little pool at evening, only I couldn't see the star myself, just the reflection of it, but she saw the star. I couldn't blame Kenneth; he wanted for her all the things I'd wanted for her always--and I couldn't bring myself to feel that the reflection of a star was better than the warm light of the fire from the hearth, but it was the star that had made her so lovely. All this time Mis' MacFarland talked liked nothing was going on and all the time I knew she was watchin'. I'd try and sound her and she'd manage not to answer. There came a time when I couldn't hold in. Moira'd been out all day on the dunes and toward night the fog had swept over us. She came back out of the fog with a look on her face like a lost soul. I knew what had happened--I knew what was wrong--yet I couldn't help crying out: "What's the matter?" She just looked at me the way animals do when they suffer and can't understand. Her mouth was white and her eyes were dark, as if she was in pain, and when Kenneth came she ran to him as if she would have thrown herself in his arms to hide. They went out on the porch and that was when I could hold in no longer. "What do you think about it?" I asked Mis' MacFarland right plain out. "About what?" she asked. I looked to where they was sitting. 'T was a wet night; the windows and trees seemed like they was crying. The great drops that fell from them, plop--plop, was like tears. There was a rainbow around the street light that made it look like the moon had dropped down close. Mis' MacFarland looked at them and she just shut her mouth and she shook her head and I could tell she wasn't pleased. Then says she: "Look!" The light fell on Moira's face and she was seeing out into the night and I knew she was _out there_. Kenneth spoke and she answered and yet she wasn't with him. He got up and walked up and down. He spoke again, and again she answered, but Moira's voice answered without Moira. Her face was shining like silver. _She'd heard_--she'd found it again. Then he stood in front of her and said in a strange sort of a voice: "Moira, what are you doing?" "Dreaming," she said. "What are you dreaming about?" "I don't know--" "It's not about me, it's nothing about me. Moira, look at me!"