"That's part of the game."
"Oh, then—do you assume that the—the game has already begun?"
"It usually opens that way, I believe."
"And where does it end, Mr. Dysart?"
"That is for you to say," he replied in a lower voice.
"Oh! And what are the rules?"
"The player who first falls really in love loses. There are no stakes. We play as sportsmen—for the game's sake. Is it understood?"
She hesitated, smiling, a little excited, a little interested in the way he put things.
At that same moment, across the lawn, Rosalie and Duane strolled into view. She saw them, and with a nervous movement, almost involuntary, she turned her back on them.
Neither she nor Dysart spoke. She gazed very steadily at the horizon, as though there were sounds beyond the green world's rim. A few seconds later a shadow fell over the terrace at her feet—two shadows intermingled. She saw them on the grass at her feet, then quietly lifted her head.