They sat there, silent. The rain had lessened its force, and was falling now in a gentle shower. A strip of blue sky, pale and watery, showed through the gray over the hills. On the island close behind them, a thrush had begun to sing.
"What are we to do?" she said, at last. "What can we do?"
"We must wait," he said. "It will all come right. It must. Nothing can stop us now."
The rain had ceased. The blue had routed the gray, and driven it from the sky. The sun, low down in the west, shone out bravely over the lake. The air was cool and fresh.
Jimmy's spirits rose with a bound. He accepted the omen. This was the world as it really was, smiling and friendly, not gray, as he had fancied it. He had won. Nothing could alter that. What remained to be done was trivial. He wondered how he could ever have allowed it to weigh upon him.
After awhile, he pushed the boat out of its shelter on to the glittering water, and seized the paddle.
"We must be getting back," he said. "I wonder what the time is. I wish we could stay out forever. But it must be late. Molly!"
"Yes?"
"Whatever happens, you'll break off this engagement with Dreever? Shall I tell him? I will if you like."
"No, I will. I'll write him a note, if I don't see him before dinner."