But when he looked at her in the morning he knew that he was not to take her with him out into the country. It was the Merwin look—a little look of quiet intentness as if she dreamed and would not wake....
He looked at it and turned away. He had not seen the look for weeks, but he knew that he should find her there when he pushed open the swinging doors and went in.
The curtains were drawn a little back and he knew, before he sat down, that she was there—waiting for some one.... He had never seen her like this—he had not been sure. He had put the thought from him when it came. But now he knew—she was there waiting for some one, full of happiness.... He knew her so well! She could not have a happiness he did not share—and no one should hurt her! His hands half clinched.
He had not thought she would come—again.... Why had she come? And this was his day—under the sky!... He had not thought this day she would come to Merwin’s!
Then he waited with her. Whatever Rosalind chose—she should not separate herself from him—or from love.... He would wait with her and be glad with her.... The strange face—the moonlight face—did not shut him out now....
The swinging doors opened and closed and the man and the woman waited.
The curtains to her alcove were closed; she had reached a hand to them and drawn them together.... But she could not shut herself away; he could see her as clearly as if he were there with her—the bent head and gentle face. The curtains should not shut him out.
He could not have told when it was that it came to him—He lifted his head a minute and looked at it.... She was there waiting for some one—she had been waiting, a long time, in her alcove—and he had not stirred!
He got up slowly and looked across to the green curtain—He moved toward it—and put out his hand and—drew back the curtain.... She was looking up, smiling—“You were—a long time!” she said.
Her hand motioned to the seat across the table—but he did not take it. He stood looking down at her—He laid his hat on the table and bent and kissed her.