“The fairy’s kiss,” he said dreamily. “That’s for farewell.”
The moon, dipped beyond a cloud, dissolved the spell. Youth straightened up brusquely on its bench, rubbing enchantment from its eyes.
“Have I been talking in my sleep, Dominie?”
“Possibly.”
“What kind of talk? Nonsense?”
“Nonsense—or wisdom. How should I know?”
“Dominie, is there a perfume in the air? A smell of roses?”
“Look in your hand.”
He opened his fingers slowly and closed them again, tenderly, jealously. “I must go now,” he said vaguely. “May I come back to see you sometimes, Dominie?”
“Perhaps you’ll bring Happiness with you,” I said.