'Let us stop here,' she says seating herself on a stile.
'Very well,' he replies, following her example, 'only we must not stay out too late you know.'
'No, we won't,' says Lippa, 'but Jimmy, dear, don't you feel awfully happy, because I do.'
'Sitting on this stile,' queries he.
'No, of course not, don't be stupid, but,' and she puts her arm round his neck, 'everybody is all right, are they not? Mabel has her child back, Paul has Clotilde, and oh, Jimmy darling, I've got you.'
There is a little sob as she says this.
'Crying,' says he, placing his arm round her, 'if you cry when you're happy, what will you do, when there is really something to cry for, oh you silly child,' but the look in his eyes belies his words, and Lippa raising hers sees something in them, which makes her draw still closer, till their lips meet.
'Dearest,' he whispers.
And then a silence also falls on them, while the calm moon, unmoved at what she sees, still shines on the same, and the distant ripple of the waves breaking on the shore is all that is heard.
THE END