ped behind a corner of the house, and a wave of darkness swept
over them. Lettice began to tremble violently, and he led her back to
their place on the veranda's edge. She was silent, and clung to him with a
reluctant eagerness. He kissed her again and again, on a still mouth, but
soon her lips answered his desire. It grew constantly darker, the silvery
vistas shortened, grew blurred, trees merged into indistinguishable
gloom.

Lettice murmured a shy, unaccustomed endearment. Gordon was stereotyped,
commonplace; he was certain that even she must recognize the hollowness of
his protestations. But she never doubted him; she accepted the dull,
leaden note of his spurious passion for the clear ring of unalloyed and
fine gold.

Suddenly and unexpectedly she released herself from his arms. "Oh!" she
exclaimed, in conscience-stricken tones, "Mrs. Caley's medicine!
I--forgot; she should have had some long ago." He tried to catch her once
more in his embrace, restrain her. "It would be better not to wake her
up," he protested, "sleep's what sick folks need." But she continued to
evade him. Mrs. Caley must have her medicine. The doctor had said that it
was important. "It's my duty, Gordon," she told him, "and you would want
me to do that."

He stifled with difficulty an impatient exclamation. "Then will you come
back?" he queried. He took her once more close in his arms. "Come back,"
he whispered hotly in her ear.

"But, dear Gordon, it is so late."

"What does that matter? don't you love me? You said you were the sort of a
girl to give all; and now, because it is a little late, you are afraid.
What are you afraid of? Tell me that! You know I love you; we belong to
each other; what does it matter how late it is? Beside, no one will know,
no one is here to spy on us. Come back, my little girl ... my little
Lettice; come back to a lonely man with nothing else in the world but you.
I'll come in with you, wait inside."

"No," she sobbed, "wait ... here. I will see ... the medicine. Wait here
for me, I will come back. It doesn't matter how late it is, nothing
matters ... trust in you. Love makes everything good. Only you love me,
oh, truly?"

"Truly," he reassured her. "Don't be long; and, remember, shut Mrs.
Caley's door."

She left him abruptly, and, standing alone in the dark, he cursed himself
for a fool for letting her go--a boy's trick. But then the whole affair
did not desperately engage him. He sat in the comfortable