Ana looked down.
“Drink quickly,” she said, so softly she could scarcely be heard, “for I must not stay long.”
Sandu drank the wine.
“Ana, Miss Ana——”
Ana drew back her hand, and looking at him in a way I cannot describe, she said:
“Are you warmer now?”
Sandu’s eyes were too eloquent, the peaceful isolation was too tempting, the stillness of the atmosphere was too intense, their hearts were too attuned for them not to understand each other.
She went up to him with an eager movement, and he put his arm about her waist and clasped her to his heart.
They neither of them said a word, but to them both it seemed that no words were needed.
“Sandu, I must go, I must really go, for Mother might come,” and gently she disengaged herself from his arms, took a few slow steps, turned round, and then fled like a little kid towards the house.