er hands and held them tightly, drawing her a little closer
to him, forgetting that she was Tom St. Clair's wife, remembering only
that she was the woman to whom he had given all his love and life's
devotion, to the entire beggaring of his heart.

"I reached home only four hours ago, and was haled straightway here to
Leo's wedding. I'm dizzy, Esme. I can't adjust my old conceptions to
this new state of affairs all at once. It seems ridiculous to think
that Leo and Alice are married. I'm sure they can't be really grown
up."

Esme laughed as she drew away her hands. "We are all ten years older,"
she said lightly.

"Not you. You are more beautiful than ever, Esme. That sunflower
compliment is permissible in an old friend, isn't it?"

"This mellow glow is kinder to me than sunlight now. I am thirty, you
know, Selwyn."

"And I have some grey hairs," he confessed. "I knew I had them but I
had a sneaking hope that other folks didn't until Leo destroyed it
today. These young brothers and sisters who won't stay children are
nuisances. You'll be telling me next thing that 'Baby' is grown up."

"'Baby' is eighteen and has a beau," laughed Esme. "And I give you
fair warning that she insists on being called Laura now. Do you want
to come for a walk with me--down under the beeches to the old lane
gate? I came out to see if the fresh air would do my bit of a headache
good. I shall have to help with the supper later on."

They went slowly across the lawn and turned into a dim, moonlight lane
beyond, their old favourite ramble. Selwyn felt like a man in a dream,
a pleasant dream from which he dreads to awaken. The voices and
laughter echoing out from the house died away behind them and the
great silence of the night fell about them as they came to the old
gate, beyond which was a range of shining, moonlight-misted fields.

For a little while neither of them spoke. The woman looked out across
the white spaces and the man watched the glimmering curve of her neck
and the soft darkness of her rich hair. How virginal, how sacred, she
looked! The thought of Tom St. Clair was a sacrilege.

"It's nice to see you again, Selwyn," said Esme frankly at last.
"There are so few of our old set left, and so many of the babies grown
up. Sometimes I don't know my own world, it has changed so. It's an
uncomfortable feeling. You give me a pleasant sensation of really
belonging here. I'd be lonesome tonight if I dared. I'm going to miss
Alice so