He put his arms around her, drew her close, felt her settle against him unresistingly.
"Glad?"
She nodded.
A solitary loon lifted his harsh, complaining cry somewhere in the shining channel.
"Calling his mate. And I've found mine. Or have I?"
He knew, or thought he knew. There was an attitude of surrender, unmistakable, complete, that filled him with a strange delight. But he wanted the verification of that voiceless pledge.
"I don't know. How can one account for a mood, a longing? I came down here to sit in the moonlight. It was so radiant. Then after a little the shadow crept out from shore, and it was just as if something black and gloomy had settled over me. I felt small and forlorn and lonely. And all at once I wanted you, Rod. I wished you were here. I wanted you. And you're here. That's all."
"It's enough," he said tenderly.