What pictures he had of her! He saw her dancing before the flushed and foolish faces of those men; he saw her as he had met her on the bridge in her cool, blowy summer dress; he saw her in the Haunted Wood, where the little river ran, bidding him turn back. Because of what she had just told him, he felt that he had never loved her until now. Like a counterpane tucking in the sleepy stars, the mist of dawn crept up. Near into the bank, behind the wall of rushes, a moor-hen was splashing. The countryside whispered with creature sounds. A bird was calling. How long had it been calling? An owl flew over his head, in haste to keep pace with the retreat of darkness. Along the east, above the spears of the reeds, a little redness spread. A thrush tried over a few staves. Before he had burst in song a perky blackbird was piping valiantly. The fields fluttered, as though a messenger ran through them, telling wild-flowers to raise their heads. The east smoldered higher; conflagration smoked sideways and upward. A door opened in a cloud; the sun stepped out. Like the unhurried crash of an orchestra the world shouted. It happened every morning while men slept. It was stupendous--appalling. How white she was! He bent over her. Her eyes opened. She gave his arm a little hug. “Were you kissing me, Peter? You mustn't, mustn't love me like that.” Ah, mustn't! It was too late to forbid him. The insanity of the night was all forgotten; only its sweetness was left. From his window the man in the moon looked down; his mouth seemed to droop at the corners. He would watch for them next night, and they would not come. He might never know the end of their story. He was despondent; he had to go to bed. Peter was chafing her hands. “How good you are!” “Not good. Only in love.” And she, “I dreamt of you. We were in the Haunted Wood. My feet were bare, and----” He held her eyes earnestly. “I wish I had been there. All these years it was the grayness of your eyes and--and something else that I remembered.” “What else? No, tell me.” “The whiteness of your feet,” he whispered.