"Good night," replied Daphne clearly. She started down the path, but at its bend she turned to look back--because she was seventeen, and it was June, and she remembered his laughter. He was standing quite still by the golden straw beehive, but he had thrown one arm across his eyes, as though to shut out some intolerable sight. And then, with a soft little rush she was standing beside him. "How--how do we get the cushions?" she demanded breathlessly. Stephen Fane dropped his arm, and Daphne drew back a little at the sudden blaze of wonder in his face. "Oh," he whispered voicelessly. "Oh, you Loveliness!" He took a step toward her, and then stood still, clinching his brown hands. Then he thrust them deep in his pockets, standing very straight. "I do think," he said carefully, "I do think you had better go. The fact that I have tried to make you stay simply proves the particular type of rotter that I am. Good-by--I'll never forget that you came back." "I am not going," said Daphne sternly. "Not if you beg me. Not if you are a devil out of hell. Because you need me. And no matter how many wicked things you have done, there can't be anything as wicked as going away when some one needs you. How do we get the cushions?" "Oh, my wise Dryad!" His voice broke on laughter, but Daphne saw that his lashes were suddenly bright with tears. "Stay, then--why, even I cannot harm you. God himself can't grudge me this little space of wonder--he knows how far I've come for it--how I've fought and struggled and ached to win it--how in dirty lands and dirty places I've dreamed of summer twilight in a still garden--and England, England!" "Didn't you dream of me?" asked Daphne wistfully, with a little catch of reproach. He laughed again, unsteadily. "Why, who could ever dream of you, my Wonder? You are a thousand, thousand dreams come true." Daphne bestowed on him a tremulous and radiant smile. "Please let us get the cushions. I think I am a little tired." "And I am a graceless fool! There used to be a pane of class cut out in one of the south casement windows. Shall we try that?" "Please, yes. How did you find it, Stephen?" She saw again that thrill of wonder on his face, but his voice was quite steady. "I didn't find it; I did it! It was uncommonly useful, getting in that way sometimes, I can tell you. And, by the Lord Harry, here it is. Wait a minute, Loveliness--I'll get through and open the south door for you--no chance that way of spoiling the frock." He swung himself up with the swift, sure grace of a cat, smiled at her--vanished--it was hardly a minute later that she heard the bolts dragging back in the south door, and he flung it wide.