She was holding out a note for him to see.
It read, "Night is coming on and I must retire, stranger. This has been an extraordinary day."
Stranger! So he was nothing more than that now! And only yesterday ... or tomorrow ... there had been complete understanding between them. They had been in love then, had told each other so! And now ... stranger!
But there was evidence of a shy, hesitant affection in the girl's face and actions.
Darrel stifled a sudden impulse to swear and smash things. Every minute, every second they were moving toward Leyloon's childhood and her complete ignorance of his existence. It was horrible and it was inevitable. Frustrating. Infuriating! The minutes were precious, priceless, and they clicked by with the ruthless precision of a machine. They were going ... gone, irretrievably.
It was almost noon—noon for both! Here was mutual ground. It was not one time of day for him and another for her ... it was noon for both. They moved toward the moment from opposite directions, Leyloon from afternoon and he from morning. Exactly at noon, when time coincided for them ... he would kiss her.
Smack!
His face stung from the reverse-motion blow. She had slapped him. But he hadn't done anything yet.
Then, he kissed her.
Now, when a slap might be expected, nothing happened. Because now she hadn't been kissed yet. She was watching him with bewitching, innocent eyes, utterly unaware that within a minute she would be kissed—or had been kissed.