And then she remembered that it was only thanks to her step-mother that she happened to be there at all.
For the moment this encounter with the enemy took away Joan's heart for dancing. Crowd-loneliness got her by the throat. Was there always to be just one of her, and so many of everybody else?
She slipped out on to a terrace that overlooked a valley with the great river gleaming far off, still holding some faint glow of the sunset's aftermath. There was a bench at the far end, lost in shadow, and she was about to seat herself there when she saw that it was already occupied.
"Oh," she said, drawing back. "I didn't notice you!"
"Women rarely do," remarked a plaintive voice with a smile in it. "I'm used to that. And yet I notice them, dreadfully!"
Joan laughed a little, and retreated. "I won't disturb you," she murmured; but the voice held her.
"Oh, please! Please do. I want to be disturbed. I simply came here to see my moonrise." A shadowy arm pointed out a dim glow over the trees to eastward.
"Why your moonrise, especially?"
"By right of discovery. I seem to be the only person aware of it.... May I share it with you?"
"You are sure you wouldn't rather see it alone?"