The gibbous disk swung clear of the horizon and like some strange misshapen acrobat climbed a low-lying lattice-work of clouds. The girl turned away to a huge willow basket-chair. Matthias found its fellow and drew near to her. He struggled to speak; he fancied that she waited for him to speak; but his mind refused to frame, his tongue to utter, aught but the stalest of banalities.
"No dew tonight," he hazarded at length, shame-faced.
After an instant of silence she laughed clearly and gently. "O romantic man!" she said. "Now that you have, shattered the spell—if you please, a cigarette."
He supplied this need; held a match; delayed holding it when it had served its purpose, enraptured with the refulgent wonder of that cameo of sweet flesh and blood set against the melting shadows, silver and purple and blue.
With a second low, light laugh, she bent forward and daintily extinguished the flame with a single puff.
"I don't wish to be stared at...."
"Pardon," he said mechanically, startled. "But ... why?"
"Perhaps I'm afraid you may see too much...."
"Impossible!" he declared with conviction.
"Odd as it may sound," she said in a mocking voice, "I have my secrets."