"You think of everything, Nigel."
"Do you like to be thought for?"
"No woman ever lived that did not."
She softly pressed his hand. Then she lifted it and held it on her knee.
Presently she saw him look up at the stars, and she felt sure that he was connecting her with them, was thinking of her as something almost ideal, or, if not that, as something that might in time become almost ideal.
"I am not a star," she said.
He did not make any answer.
"Nigel, never be so absurd as to think of me as a star!"
He suddenly looked around at her.
"What do you say, Ruby?"