"I am," said Edgar.
"Truly afraid? And do you think I'm a poor insect?"
"I think you're the most wonderful creature that ever lived. I adore you," said Edgar.
Great tears splashed from Patricia's eyes. Laughing, she held him closely, and impulsively kissed the brown cheek next her own.
"Dearest!" she cried. "It's a dream. I didn't know I ... I didn't realise how much I loved you, until just exactly that moment when I saw you were nothing but a silly baby. But you're artful, you know! You're a deep one." Ruminatingly, she presently added: "I'm not so sure about those risks."
She was strangely exalted and happy, and her face was the funny face of a baby; and she sometimes could not meet Edgar's eyes, and sometimes boldly sought them; and altogether was mystified by her own sensations, and by the odd thoughts which came sparkling into her mind and on to her tongue. The two of them continued to sit in Budge and to be consumed in the marvel of their situation. Around them the wind played and the sun shone as it travelled towards the west, and the counties continued to subsist as if no lovers sat high above them absorbed in joy.
THE END.