“I know you so well... We have met before?”
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, chin cupped between finger and thumb, tired eyes aglow with life.
“Yes!”
“When? Where?”
“Always!” he told her. “In our dreams.”
She shrank at that, edging back into her corner, holding out a quick, protesting hand. “No! Please! Don’t make fun... We have met on more substantial ground. I know your face. I knew it the moment you turned. We have met years ago, and have forgotten—”
Rupert sat motionless, his eyes riveted upon her face. “Think!” he urged softly. “Think! Ask your own heart, and let it answer. It spoke clearly enough a minute ago. You have always known me! You have been waiting, as I have been waiting. It has been long, and we are both tired, but now it is over, and we can forget. Our summer has begun!” He stretched out his hand towards her.
“I’ve been keeping myself for you. From this moment I am yours, and all that I have. The world would call me crazy to make such a vow to a woman I have known in the flesh for only a few minutes, but you understand! You know that it is the simple, absolute truth. Give me your hand!”
Like a homing-bird the small hand fluttered and fell, nestling softly against his own. He pressed his lips to it in a long, sacramental kiss, then raised himself to look into her eyes. “What is your name?”
“Eve. And yours?”