Stella cried out softly. She felt numb, and despite the heat her hands and brow were cold with damp. She could not bear to touch him, and could not even make her lips move to speak to him again. She went away.
The waiting dinner grew stale. Stella sat on the step outside. The stars were feeble at first; then they were lustrous and brilliant.
She did not know how long she sat there. It seemed very late when he called to her, his voice thick and full of an agony of physical reaction. She trembled and went in to him. Somehow she managed to light the lamp, and tropical moths fluttered softly all about it.