"Elspeth!"
Elspeth took a moment to come back to White Farm. "What is it, Gilian?"
Gilian moved to the window and sat in it. She had not undressed. The moon silvered her, too. "What has happened, Elspeth?"
"Naught. What should happen?"
"It's no use telling me that.—We've been away from each other almost a year. I know that I've changed, grown, in that time, and it's natural that you should do the same. But it's something besides that!"
Elspeth laughed and her laughter was like a little, cold, mirthless chime of silver bells. "You're fanciful, Gilian!... We're no longer lassies; we're women! So the colors of things get a little different—that's all!"
"Don't you love me, Elspeth?"
"Yes, I love you. What has that to do with it?"
"Has it not? Has love naught to do with it? Love at all—all love?"
Elspeth parted her long dark hair into two waves, drew it before her, and began to braid it, sitting still, her limbs under her, upon the bed. "I saw you on the moor walking and talking with grandfather. What did he say to you?"