Later Clive came in to sit beside her where she lay on her dainty bed. She turned her flushed face on the pillow, smiled at him, and lifted her neck a little; and he slipped one arm under it.
"Such a wonderful pillow your shoulder makes," she murmured.... "I am thinking of the first time I ever knew it.... So quiet I lay,—such infinite caution I used whenever I moved.... That night the air was musical with children's voices—everywhere under the stars—softly garrulous, laughing, lisping, calling from the hills and meadows.... That night of miracles and of stars—my dear—my dearest!—"
Close to her cheek he breathed: "Are you in pain?"
"Oh, Clive! I am so happy. I love you so—I love you so."
Then nurse and physician came in and the latter took him by the arm and walked out of the room with him. For a long while they paced the passage-way together in whispered conversation before the nurse came to the door and nodded.
Both went in: Athalie laughed and put up her arms as Clive bent over her.
"All will be well," she whispered, kissed him, then turned her head sharply to the right.
When he found himself in the garden, walking at random, the sun hung a hand's breadth over the woods. Later it seemed to become entangled amid new leaves and half-naked branches, hanging there motionless, blinding, glittering through an eternity of time.