They were off again, a wild liberating rush, and then a calmer motion, a gliding ease. She felt in him a different mood, a mood that sought an opportunity to put questions and weigh answers, and as she felt a desire to escape personalities, she said complainingly: "But it's so slow--so tame! Let's go on running away!" "This is different," he said, with a wave of his hand overhead at the myriad-eyed night. "You can't run away from this! The rest--houses, people, rotten brutality, useless things, yes; that's what I like to go plunging from--to get to this. I like the feeling--solitude. George! if you could only go steering your way out of all the old into something new!" He repeated the phrase moodily, as if to himself: "If one only could--if it were only possible!" Then he broke off abruptly, laughing to himself: "You're too young. You can't understand. Everything is new to you. By George, marry me and start for Australia, or Timbuctoo, to-morrow! What do you say?" "Look out! I might accept!" she said, laughing, and yet understanding. "Every one thinks I'm a wild ass," he said grimly. "Wish I could do something really wild--make over the world! Look here; are you going to answer my question?" "What question?" "Why in the name of the impossible are we here to-night?" "I wonder?" she said, half to herself. The reply seemed to satisfy him; he continued a moment, absorbed in their smooth progress. Insensibly she felt her mood yielding to his, no longer impatient, vaguely content, lulled into reverie, giving herself over to a new strange companionable inclination toward the man who had revealed himself, half boy, half savage, in his first unconscious longings.