Desmond, solemnly.

"I am very glad of that," says Monica, simply; and then she raises
herself from his embrace and looks straight down to the sea again.

At this moment voices, not approaching but passing near them, reach
their ears.

"They are going in," says Monica, hurriedly, and with a regret that is
very grateful to him. "We must go too."

"Must we?" reluctantly. "Perhaps," brightening, "they are only going to
try the effect higher up."

"No. They are crossing the gravel to the hall door."

"They are devoid of souls, to be able to quit so divine a view in such
hot haste. Besides, it is absurdly early to think of going indoors yet.
By Jove, though!" looking at his watch, "I'm wrong: it is well after
eleven. Now, who would have thought it?"

"Are you sure you mean _eleven_?" with flattering incredulity.

"Only too sure. _Hasn't_ the time gone by quickly? Well, I suppose I
must take you in, which means candles and bed for you, and a dreary
drive home for Kelly and me, and not a chance of seeing you alone
again."

"This time last week you couldn't have seen me at all," says Miss
Beresford.

"True. I am ungrateful. And altogether this has been such a delightful
evening,--to me at least: were," doubtfully, "_you_ happy?"

"Very, _very_ happy," with earnest, uplifted eyes.

"Darling love!--I am afraid I must give you up to Mrs. O'Connor now," he
goes on, presently, when an ecstatic thought or two has had time to come
and go. "But, before going, say good-night to me here."

"Good-night, Brian."

He has never attempted to kiss her since that first time (and last, _so
far_) in the orchard; and even now, though her pretty head is pressed
against him, and her face is dangerously close to his, he still
refrains. He has given her his word and will not break it; but perhaps
he cannot altogether repress the desire to expostulate with her on her
cruelty, because he gives voice to the gentle protest that rises to his
lips.

"That is very cold good-night," he says. "You would say quite as much as
that to Kelly or any of the others."

"I shouldn't call Mr. Kelly by his Christian name."

"No; but you would, Ronayne."

"Well, I shan't again, if you don't like it."

"That has nothing at all to do with what I mean. I only think you might
show me a little more favor than the rest."

"Good-night, then, _dear_ Brian. Now, I certainly shouldn't dream of
calling Mr. Ronayne dear Ulic."

"Of course not. I should hop