"See," said Anna, "there's our light."
But Thomas did not even lift his head to look. In the chilly, solemn, night air, he was warm and drowsy with his own silence, which being all too full of things to say was like to turn him into sugar with pure sorrow. And Anna, her round lips parted with desire, waited for him to speak, and held his hand tighter and tighter.
"Starlight," she murmured, "starbright, very first star I see to-night, wish I may, wish I might . . ."
"Sky's full of stars," said Thomas.
"Do you know what I wished?"
"Do I?"
"Don't you?"
He looked at her in silence; awkwardly, then, she drew him down, until her lips brushed his cheek.
"Look at Elsie," she murmured. "Did you ever?"
But Thomas would not look at Elsie; not until Anna had told him her wish. "Wish I may, wish I might . . ."