So little Arlette shook hands all around, and backed out of the door, throwing kisses and waving her tiny hand, a dainty little fairy, a very breath of sweetness and purity.... And her grandmother had not thought it amiss to bring her to see Madeleine—for whom she had gotten breakfast.... “If we’re going to the Casino—” said Bert to Madeleine, and got to his feet. “Sure you won’t come?” he said to Andree. “_Merci_,” said Andree, positively. “See you later, then.... Good night.” In a moment the door closed behind Bert, and Madeleine and Kendall were alone with Andree.... Somehow he had never felt the sensation of being alone with her as he felt it now. On other occasions he had been alone merely with a girl he knew, was somewhat interested in; now he was alone with Andree, whom he loved, who loved him.... He was alone with her as a man would be alone with his wife in his home. It was very sweet, wonderful, and yet he was disquieted. There were things he did not understand. Chief of all he did not know what Andree was thinking, what she was intending. Second in importance, he did not know what he himself was intending.... He put the thought away from him, even though he realized that their relations had reached some sort of climax.... He would allow that climax to approach unurged. When it arrived he would meet it.... “The sun puts itself to bed,” Andree said, using the French locution. “I’ll light the lights,” he replied, and, walking to the windows, closed the heavy iron shutters and drew the curtains as the law required him to do before he illuminated the room. He was glad of something to do to cover the awkwardness he felt in those first moments. “Sit by me,” she said, softly. She was not embarrassed, was, indeed, perfectly normal, unexcited, at ease; her manner was very gentle, very sweet. Her every look, every gesture, seemed to declare her love and her joy in his love. There was a quiet assurance in her manner; the sure trace of present happiness which would not tolerate a shadow on this night.... She was her own self, dainty, genuine, wonderfully appealing. It seemed as if she had lived all her life for this moment so that she could unfold under the touch of the marvel of love and become wholly admirable.... She was beautiful, as was fitting, beautiful with the loveliness that can come only from a soul not warring with the laws of God. Untroubled by doubt or question, she reassured him, gave him renewed confidence in her goodness, her rightness, her purity.... Her moment of happiness had come to her, and she looked into the brightness of it with unwavering eyes that saw nothing to fear, nothing to conceal—saw only love. He sat beside her and she nestled close to him, touching his hand, lifting her deep-shadowed eyes to his—and then she smiled. “_Mignonne!_” he whispered, tenderly. “Tell me,” she said. “Say it—quickly.”