“Oh, not yet.” He felt that he was going to lose her--lose her forever. Surely, surely he could rouse her to a sense of the poetry and drama which was burning in his blood. It was impossible that she should not feel it. She had been sleeping, as he had been sleeping, letting love go by with its banners and drums. “Oh, not yet,” he pleaded; “all these years we've lived--we've hardly ever been together.” She broke the suspense by laughing. “What's your favorite hymn, Peter?” He was puzzled. “Haven't got one. Never thought about it. What makes you ask?” She wriggled her shoulders. “Because mine's 'Yield not to temptation.'” He didn't catch the significance of her remark. She saw that. “Still a little boy, aren't you? A little boy of nineteen, who thinks he's in love. There are heaps of other girls in the world.--Yes, I'll come.” He piled the cushions for her; then took the paddle and seated himself so he could face her. Their conversation was carried on by fits and starts, with long pauses. “He was a beast.” She spoke reflectively. “Who was?” “Hardcastle.” “But I thought--I was afraid you liked him.” She trailed her hand in the black water, watching how it slipped through her fingers. “I did like him for the moment. That proves I'm not nice. Women often like men who are beasts.” “But you don't like him now?” She teased him, keeping him waiting. “I'm glad you struck him.” Presently she said, “Peter, I've been thinking, why can't we have good times together? We could be friends and--nothing serious, but more than exactly friends. Lots of girls do it.” Peter stopped paddling. “I should have to love you. I should be always hoping that----” “Then it wouldn't be fair to you,” she said. He had been silent for some minutes. “Where did you learn so much about men? I know nothing about women.” “Where did I learn?” she laughed. “Girls know without learning. Until to-night no man ever kissed me--not the way you kissed me. So you needn't be jealous.” The punt nosed its way among rushes and came to rest. He crouched against her feet, holding her hands, trembling at her nearness. The deep stillness of the night enfolded them. Reeds stood up tall on every side, shutting out the world. Above their heads a flock of fleecy clouds wandered, with unseen shepherds swinging stars for lanterns. The man in the moon looked out of his window with a tolerant smile on his mouth. She lay against the cushions, white and impassive, her long, fine throat stretched back.