Boy, who had stayed behind to examine the colt, came cantering up.
The dusk was drawing down apace, the earth dark about them, and seaward that window in the west pale and lovely.
"Wonderful!" said Mr. Haggard, dreamily, and repeated slowly and to himself—
Since I can never see your face,
And never shake you by the hand,
I send my soul through time and space
To greet you. You will understand.
The riders turned away.
Neither spoke for a while.
"Mr. Haggard's like mother," said the girl at last. "He's got that." She added: "I'm glad we met him. I was very angry."
"Aren't you now?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, "but in a different way. It's white now. It was red then."
They rode slowly off the crest amid the gorse, the lights of Putnam's burning far beneath them in the dusk.