"Poor Mr. Power."
"I have always known."
"And now you are glad."
"Are you going to marry him, Molly?"
"Some day maybe."
"He is a straight man, child. You couldn't choose a straighter one."
Once more the wind had fluttered itself to death. She lifted her hair from her brows to cool her forehead.
"It will be a real old man storm and the roof isn't too good. Mum and Dad will be at it to-morrow as soon as the rain comes through. See the lightning that time?"
Now, in a mysterious way, the night began to cool, and a rush of wind leapt up and swept towards them from the distance. It broke upon the timbered country with a loud cry, clapping and clashing the boughs together. And presently it plucked at the hair of his head and snatched at the folds of her dress. And then it had swept by, leaving the night cooler for its passage.
"What are you thinking of, Molly?"