The world was hushed and heavy with sleep. Once, as he passed under the drooping branches of a tree, a bird stirred in its nest with a sleepy _cheep_. He made his way around the house at the back, absentmindedly feeling for his coat pocket and his pipe. He had left it upstairs, but no matter. Why should one want to defile such a night as this with tobacco-smoke, anyway? He stopped once under a pear-tree and wondered why his pulse raced so. "What's the matter with me?" he murmured. "Am I going to be sick? Or am I just plain locoed by that moon? Well!" He sighed, laughed softly at himself, and went on. He was in the shade now, but beyond him was a moonlit space where stood the little arched gateway in the hedge. He went toward it, his footsteps making scant sound on the soft turf; reached it; passed--but no, he didn't pass through just then. Instead he stopped suddenly, drew in his breath and stared wonderingly into the startled face confronting him. XVI. For a little time, perhaps as long as it took his heart to pound thrice in wild tumult, they confronted each other in silence. Then--"Eve!" he cried, softly; and-- "You!" she whispered. Again a silence, in which he could have sworn that he heard his heart beating with gladness and the stars singing in the heavens. "I--I wasn't sleepy," she said, breathlessly. "Nor I. I didn't want to sleep. I wanted"--he stepped through the gateway and seized the hand that lay against her breast--"you." "Please!" she cried, straining away at the length of her slender arm. "You mustn't! You got my note!" "And tore it to fragments--an hour since! I don't remember a word of it!" "But I meant it!" "You didn't!" "Let me go, please; I ought not to be here; I don't want to stay here." "You must stay until--but you're trembling!" He dropped her hand and stood back contritely. "Have I scared you?" "Yes.... I don't know.... Good night." She turned, but didn't go. The moonlight enfolded her slim form with white radiance and danced in and out of her soft hair. Wade drew a deep breath. "Will you listen a moment to me, please?" he asked, calmly. She bowed her head without turning. "You said in your note that you did not care to be made a convenience of. What did that mean, please?" "You know!" "But I don't. You must tell me." "I don't wish to. Why do you try to pretend with me?" she asked with a flash of scorn. "Pretend! Good Lord, is this pretense? What do you mean? Is it pretense to be so madly in love with you that--that yesterday and to-day have"--he caught himself up. "You must tell me," he said, quietly. "I meant that I would not marry you to salve your conscience." She turned and faced him, her head back scornfully. "You thought some of that money should be mine and because I refused to take it you--you tried to trick me! You pretended you--cared for me. Don't I understand? You threatened one day to have your way, and you thought I was so--so simple that I wouldn't guess."