"I never will again, but the moonlight makes everything unreal to-night. It makes me solemn, in spite of myself, although I am so wildly happy . . . and, feeling solemn, I am a little frightened about the future, our
"Now, Lina, why?"
"Because," she said, "it would be so terrible to have been given all this only to have it taken away. I think it would kill me. And yet that sounds ungrateful, because, as I have just said, if one of us died to-night, the other would always have these lovely secret memories, that nothing, or nobody, could ever take from either one o us."
"Lina, if you are going to talk like that, I shall have to kiss you so many times that you won't be able to speak any more. Why must you talk of dying?
"Perhaps," she said, "I really meant parting. lts
the same, to me."
"They say," he reminded her, "that parting means
dying a little bit." .
"That's worse. Far worse. I would rather die out-
right, and be finished with it." . . ,
"But, Lina, we are not going to part! You re wicked to-night, and I think the moon has bewitched you. I
shall take you home." _
"But, Guy, how can we stay like this for the rest ot our lives? You must be brave enough to think of that. One day it will have to end, and then what are we going
to do?" . u .
"Haven't I asked you," he reminded her, quite a
hundred times to marry me?"
"Yes, I know you have, and I have explained to you
more than a hundred times why that's impossible.
"But at least, Lina, you could come back with me to England, and then we need never be separated."