ural desolation of a ravine, and under these windowed cliffs
she danced with rage, a tiny figure of fury with a paper-bag flapping
from each hand like a pendulous boxing-glove, while he stood in front of
her in a humble, pinioned attitude, keeping his elbows close to his side
lest he should drop any parcels.

He loved every word of it, from the moment she explosively told him that
it was all very well to hee-haw up there like a doited giraffe, and his
mind felt the same pleasure that the palate gets out of a good curry as
she told him that the English were a miserable, decadent people who were
held together only by the genius and application of the Scotch, that
English industry was dependent for its existence on Scotch engineers,
and that English education consisted solely of Univairsities that were
no more than genteel athletic clubs, and begged him to consider the
implication of the fact that the Scotch, though a smaller people than
the English, had defended a larger country....

He woke up at that. He had been tranced in a pleasant reverie, for
though she was angry he knew that she would not get too angry. She was
running away from him, but in a circle.

"Scotland bigger than England!" he jeered. "Think of the map! Bigger
than England!"

She thought of the map, and for a minute her mouth was a little round
dismayed hole. But she was not to be beaten. "I was alluding to its
surface," she said coldly. "It being such an elevated country, there
must be many square miles standing practically on end, thus taking
hardly any space on the map. Consequently I was correct in saying that
Scotland is bigger than England." She drew breath to go on, but her lips
began to twitch and her eyes to seek his half-ashamedly, and then she
began to giggle at her own sophistry and was not angry when he joined
her. They built a little bright vibrant cave in the night with their
laughter, from which they did not wish to move. They were standing quite
still on the broad pavement, staring intently at each other's faces,
trying to remember the reality under the distortions painted by the
strong moonlight. It was a precious moment of intimacy, and they did not
quite know what to do with it. They did not even know whether to be
grave or gay. It was as if they held between them a sheet of shot tissue
and could not decide whether to hold it up to the light and show its
merry rosy colour or let it sag and glow rich gold.

But indeed they had no c