His hot breath was on her cheek, and in a whisper he said, “I love you, little Daphne, the night is round us, come, we will love while we may.” His lips were close to hers, but some invisible force restrained him. What had he written; he would treat her as a sister. The word of a Reckavile was inviolate, whether for good or evil, and slowly he released her from his close embrace.
“I will take you back,” he whispered. “It is too late for you to be out.”
“Thank you, I ought to go, but it is so lovely here, and you are so good to me.”
“Come with me,” he said unable to trust himself further.
He took her to the garden wall where she had jumped down, and lifted her young warm body like a feather.
She was again adorable, and his mood was exalted. She reached down, and he took her hand to kiss, but she put two soft arms round his neck and kissed him frankly as a child might kiss.
“I shall be here every night till you come again,” he said, disarmed completely.
There was a movement above, and she was gone.
This meeting was the first of many. Desmond stayed on at the hotel, and the foreign expedition was postponed.
Each night he would wait beneath the wall, which bordered the woods, till all hope of seeing her had gone. Then he would go to the hotel not angry but hoping for a happier chance on the morrow.