“I can't. There is nothing to tell. Really, there is not.”
“You would tell me if there was?”
“Of course.”
“And you love me as much as ever?”
“Oh, yes.”
He looked into her eyes, asking them mutely to tell him the truth. And he thought their expression was strangely cold. The light had surely faded out of them. He kissed her silently and went forward. Clarice was standing there looking at the rising moon.
“Good-night,” he said, holding out his hand.
“How grave you look,” she answered, not seeing the hand.
“The moonlight makes people look unnatural.”