iled, pleased at that image.
Moths! Men were like moths; there were women from whom they could not
keep away. Yes, there was something about Olive that drew men to her.
Not meretricious--to do her justice, not that at all; but something
soft, and-fatal; like one of these candle-flames to the poor moths.
John's eyes were never quite as she knew them when he was looking at
Olive; and Robert Cramier's--what a queer, drugged look they had! As for
that other poor young fellow--she had never forgotten his face when they
came on him in the Park!

And when after dinner they sat on the veranda, they were all more silent
still, just watching, it seemed, the smoke of their cigarettes, rising
quite straight, as though wind had been withdrawn from the world. The
Colonel twice endeavoured to speak about the moon: It ought to be up by
now! It was going to be full.

And then Cramier said: "Put on that scarf thing, Olive, and come round
the garden with me."

Mrs. Ercott admitted to herself now that what John said was true. Just
one gleam of eyes, turned quickly this way and that, as a bird looks
for escape; and then Olive had got up and quietly gone with him down the
path, till their silent figures were lost to sight.

Disturbed to the heart, Mrs. Ercott rose and went over to her husband's
chair. He was frowning, and staring at his evening shoe balanced on a
single toe. He looked up at her and put out his hand. Mrs. Ercott gave
it a squeeze; she wanted comfort.

The Colonel spoke:

"It's heavy to-night, Dolly. I don't like the feel of it."

XVII

They had passed without a single word spoken, down through the laurels
and guelder roses to the river bank; then he had turned to the right,
and gone along it under the dove-house, to the yew-trees. There he
had stopped, in the pitch darkness of that foliage. It seemed to her
dreadfully still; if only there had been the faintest breeze, the
faintest lisping of reeds on the water, one bird to make a sound; but
nothing, nothing save his breathing, deep, irregular, with a quiver in
it. What had he brought her here for? To show her how utterly she was
his? Was he never going to speak, never going to say whatever it was he
had in mind to say? If only he would not touch her!

Then he moved, and a stone dislodged fell with a splash into the water.
She could not help a little gasp. How black the river looked! But
slowly, beyond the dim shape of the giant poplar, a shiver of light
stole