Usually now when he met her in the evening he kissed her, because she expected it. She had kissed him first when he had given her a present at Christmas, and thereafter it became their practice, comradely. To-night he did not kiss her. He was stirred at the sight of her; her friendliness, the bright greeting of her eyes thrust him back into himself and inwardly alarmed him. And she looked up at him and laughed mischievously, and swung her body from the hips up, and then moved slowly away from him, pouting her lips. "Would you like anywhere better than Kew?" he asked. "Wimbledon, where we saw the picture-actors. D'you remember?" They boarded a bus and were swiftly borne out over the river, up through the holiday town that had reminded him of Buxton, and out to the wide common. There they wandered. A thin moon came up. They passed whispering lovers, and men and women for whom that word was too great. Here again was spring, the first spring evening. Ann chattered, but René spoke never a word. Once she said: "Dull to-night, aren't you? Are you tired?" Her questions met with so hard a silence that she too ceased to talk. She thought he must be offended with her, and as they returned she slipped her hand on his knee. He gripped her forearm, held it for a moment, then put her away from him. After a long while she said: "I didn't know I'd made you angry." "Angry? My dear child!" "What is it, then?" "This damned world. This morning I took three happy children to the country, and all day long I've been at the beck and call of men and women who have lost the power and the will to be happy." "I don't know how you know. And you're not very good at it yourself to-night, are you?" "How do I know? Ask Kilner." "That beast, Kilner." "He's my friend." "He's no friend of mine." Then again he was silent. The thought of Kilner had made him just a little angry with her. With Kilner the day that had begun so beautifully might have come to a glorious and brave end. Presently she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and said: "Don't be cross. You'll soon be dead, and it's no good being cross. I do like being with you, really, even when we can't have fun, and you go wasting your time thinking." He turned, and their eyes met, and he astonished her by saying: "Ann, you don't know how beautiful you are." She gave a little cry on that, put out her hand, and this time he held it strongly clasped. They could be happy in their silence then. When they reached the mews she said she had supper in her room and he could come up if he liked. They ate and drank and were very merry, and it was late when he rose to go. He opened the door. She was at his side. "Good night, Ann." "You needn't go," she whispered. V TOGETHER Je vais où le vent me mène Sans me plaindre où m'effrayer. Je vais où va toute chose, Où va la feuille de rose Et la feuille de laurier!