She was not afraid of much, that woman. I had almost written that she took it perfectly calmly, but that was just what she did not do. But it was no fear of immensity and the blackness of Infinity that she showed. Rather she seemed to see an opportunity to be snatched at. That face that I have likened to the ivory of a lamp betrayed the soft radiance that she tried to, but could not hide. "Yes, that gives it," she breathed. "So you see what I mean by 'having the right.' You'd be there, the nearest, the brightest, vivider than everything else.... _Have_ you the right?" She laughed softly. "You mean I'm a baby-snatcher?" she said. I did not reply. For that was about the size of it. Did he remain in that mood, there she would be in the punt with him, or holding iron rods for him as he set out the plan of the incinerator, or hunting with him for the kingfishers' nest, or watching him as he bathed with to-morrow's batch of boys. He would blow little boats of willow-leaves to her, bring water-blossoms gliding into her hand. To-morrow evening they would watch that amber star together, stroll along my winding paths as the glow-worms came out. That was to be her theft--to press herself home in the glamorous irresistible moment, let what would afterwards befall. My modest little estate was to be her antechamber to paradise, and unwittingly I had set open the gates of it for her myself. And she was laughing at me for it--openly laughing at me. "Well--the portrait for the Lyonnesse Club's getting along very nicely, George," she laughed. "Dear, dear Julia----" I began. "That earnest expression's rather good. What a pity I didn't bring my painting-tools--we might have got a good day's work done to-morrow." "My dear----" Then, suddenly, "How long have you actually known Derry, George?" she demanded. "About fifteen years." "Not longer? Then you don't know what's coming next?" I don't like to be smiled at as she was smiling. I jumped up. "Yes I do," I said with a flush. "What's coming next is that you're not going to do this. You're going to promise me not to. Be his secretary, his nurse, his housekeeper, anything else you like, but you're not to do this. It it's nothing else it's----" "Taking a mean advantage, you mean?" she supplied the words for me. "But he never did know anything about women. Why shouldn't he learn, poor dear?" "Julia, you _can't_ have thought! A man without an age! A man, except for you and me, without even a name a week together! A man who says of himself that he's to all intents and purposes a ghost haunting anybody who happens to know anything about him!... Anyway you shan't." "Shan't I, George?" she asked with a long deep look into my eyes. "That you shall not." She too rose and stood before me, one elbow on the mantelpiece. She drew up the walking-skirt an inch or two and pushed at a log with her foot.