So soon! She sat up. San Terenzo with its golden eyes! On the crazy quay she made out two blurs of white. “Yes, Peter, it's Kay. Is Harry with you?” Before the boat had stopped, as it nosed its way along the side, Harry leapt in. “At last! It's you.” His voice was strained and impetuous. For eight months he had waited; he had been kept waiting an extra day--the longest of them all. “Hush!” she whispered. “Peter---- I've told him nothing. You shouldn't have come, Harry; you really shouldn't.” She took a hand of each as they helped her to land. Walking back to the villa, she gave them laughing glimpses of her adventure, “So it's not such a bad day's work; he's going to make me live forever in a portrait.” Good-nights had been said. From her window Kay had seen the lights blown out in other bedrooms. The fishing-village, fringing the shore, had been in darkness for two hours. She leant out, gazing across the bay to where the headland of Lerici curved in like a horn. Life--that was what she thought about. It was in this very room that Shelley had wakened and recognized the cowled figure of his soul, and had heard it question, “Art thou satisfied?” It was the same question that she asked herself. A knock upon the door! She started from the window and looked back. It came again, so lightly that it seemed to say, “Only you and I are meant to hear me.” She threw a wrapper about her; her long bright hair fell shining across her shoulders. It might be Peter. Again it came. On the threshold Harry was standing. “Let me speak to you.” She hesitated. “You gave me no chance to say anything. Am I to stay or--or to go to-morrow?” He ought to go. She knew that. And yet----. “I can wait, Kay. Though you send me away, I shall wait forever for you.” She was sorry for him--and more than sorry. This pleading of the living voice was different--so different from the pleading of letters. Dimly she heard within herself the echo of his clamor stirring. “Dear Harry, I want you to stay--but to stay just as you were always.” He caught his breath. It was almost as though he laughed in the darkness. “It was always as it is now. You didn't know; it began that first day when I fought Peter, showing off like a boy. So if it's to be as it was always-----.” He looked so lonely standing there. He oughtn't to be sad with her--it hurt; they'd always been glad together. She took his hands tremblingly, “Stay and be--be the mouth-organ boy. We'll have such good times, Harry, we three together. Don't be my--anything else. I'm too young for that, and---- “And?” “Peter hasn't learnt to do without me. Lorie was the same with you--you understand. So Harry, promise me that you won't let Peter know--won't do anything to make him know, or to make him unhappy.” He put his arms about the narrow shoulders, stooping his head. “Trust me.” She leant her face aside sharply. “Not on my lips. They're for the man I marry.” “But one day I----.”