The words just hinted by a breath—
In no far country's silent way,
Unless that country's name be Death—"
He paused abruptly, and drove silently onward.
"Oh," breathed Pat. "Why don't you go on, Nick? Please."
"No. It isn't the mood for this night, Dear. Not this night, alone with you."
"What is, then?"
"Nothing sentimental. Something lighter, something—oh, Elizabethan. That's it."
"And what's stopping you?"
"Lack of an available idea. Or—wait. Listen a moment." He began, this time in a tone of banter.