“Nor I--” He laughed a little. “I thought we might--try it.” She was still regarding them thoughtfully. “I haven’t anything to wear--have I--?” She looked up with the wrinkled line between her eyes. “Wear your--” He checked it on his tongue. “Get something--There’s a week, you know. You can get something, can’t you?” “Yes, if you think I ought--” “Of course--get what you need.” She waited thoughtfully.... “I have--a dress that might do--with a little changing--” she said. He saw with a flash, suddenly, the dark attic above them--and a man on his knees staring down at the grey and shimmering whiteness. “Better get something new, wouldn’t you?” said Eldridge. “Perhaps--I will think--about it.” He could not have told which he wished-----But when, the night of the concert, she came down to him wearing the grey dress and long grey gloves, with the lace falling softly back--he knew in the flash, as he looked at her, that he was glad.... She was buttoning one of the gloves and the long grey coat hung from her arm. She did not look up. He took it from her and wrapped her in it. They were going to another world--together. She was going--with him. There was a little, quiet flush in her face as she sat in the car. Other people were going to the concert, and she looked at them as they came in and sat down. And Eldridge looked at Rosalind. He did not speak to her.... They were going to a new world--and the car was taking them.... Bits of talk--color--drifting fragrance as the coats fell back.... The woman across the aisle had a bunch of violets.... Why had he not thought to get violets for Rosalind! Would she have liked flowers--? She seemed a strange Rosalind, sitting beside him in the car in her grey dress--her eyes like little stars.... They had three children... and a brick house.... The car jolted on. Eldridge would have wished that it might never stop.... There would not be another night like this. He could put out his hand and touch mystery.... Then he was helping her over the crowded street and they were in the hall--with flowers everywhere--and something close about you that touched you when you moved. ***** For years afterward he looked back to that Symphony with Rosalind. He had come blindly to a door--as blindly as, when a boy, he had walked in the moonlight--and they had gone in together. They were like children in its strangeness. And as children explore a new field, they went forward. It belonged to them--the lights and people, and vibrations everywhere.... They would go till they came to the end--but there would be no end--always hills stretching beyond, and a wood--something deep, mysterious in that wood.... They came to it softly, looking in, and turned back.... Once Rosalind had turned and looked at him.