"I'm coming back," said Bobby. "Trust me, if I have you to come back to. I always did have luck, and I've always come back. I do have you, don't I?"
"You seem to," Elizabeth whispered merrily. "And I—"
Then Eve and I were out of that balcony at last, and we went along the piazza as silently as might be, and down the steps. I began to sing softly, "The cloudless sky is now serene," and Eve laughed and checked me.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Adam?"
"No, Eve," I said, "but I rejoice mightily."
"And so do I," she said, "and there is but one thing more needed to make me very happy. And that you shall tell me."
And we wended over the grass that was flecked with moonlight—it was wet too, that grass—and through the greenery that was no more green, but was of a dense blackness, and came out upon the bank above my clam beds, where the sod breaks off to the sand. And there Eve sat her down where the pebbles once shone in the sun, ADAM and EVE.
"I know it is wet," she said, "and I do not care. Now do you finish what you began to tell me—about yourself."
I sat beside her. "It seems trivial now. Indeed, it is no great matter, but I am easier in my mind now that I have done it. I have enrolled in the navy. And that is all, and soon told. And if you do not like it, Eve, I am sorry, but I had to do it."
She laughed, and she gave a glad little cry, and her arms were about my neck.