“I will take my chance,” said the man.
Joan stepped out with him into the drive.
“As far as the gate,” she said, half appealingly.
They passed down the drive into the dense umbrage of the yews and cypresses. Overhead a silvery film of clouds covered the sky; here and there a star flickered through. The west was still black as the mouth of a mighty cavern.
At the gate they stood a moment as though loath to part. The girl’s eyes looked very big and luminous in the dusk; her hair was a dark wreath about her face.
She gave him one of the red wind-flowers from her bosom.
“Good-night,” she said.
Her voice was very wistful, and she stood close to the man as he held the iron gate open with one hand.
“I shall see you again soon?” she asked.
A sudden hunger for her lips seized him, but he withheld the desire and drew back slowly from under the overhanging trees.