“No; they have been good friends of ours.”
“Nor afraid of the Cup,” finished Herman, “for I have come to feel that I have found something here in Outland that not even Forgetfulness can take away.... What I said to you the other night ... the door....”
“Oh, I thought it was Zirriloë....” He stopped and considered. “... And that she had shut it again on cheapness and affronting shame.... It left a mark on me.”
“Such experiences do, Herman.”
“But she is gone ... and the door swings wide. It is open to-night; and that is what I have found here in Outland that I shall never let go again.”
What he really had was my hand, which he seemed not to be aware of, beating it softly between his palms as he talked. I could hardly withdraw it without seeming to point an emphasis.
“And being so sure of that,” said Herman, “makes it difficult to believe that all this should be taken away from us.”
He made a gesture with the hand that held mine toward the swale of River Ward, the silvered line of the willows, the low moon, the fair light, the smell of the packed earth breaking up to bloom.
“Do you know, it is very strange, Mona, I have not the least idea where we are, but I think I could start out to-night direct for home and find it. Have you ever felt so?”
“Not since the Meet at Leaping Water.”