out on a headland overlooking the Sound. Over the water the mist was
only a thickening of the atmosphere which made the lights of a city
across the water look like globes of yellow light in contrast to the
clear red and white of a lighthouse in the foreground. He leaned forward
and turned off the engine and lights.

Lydia found that she was trembling a little, which seemed strange, for
she felt unemotional and still. And then all of a sudden she recognized
that she was really waiting--waiting to feel her cheek against his rough
frieze coat and his lips against hers. It was not exactly that she
wanted it, but that it was inevitable--simple--not her choice--something
that must be. This was an experience that she had never had before. In
the silence she felt their mutual understanding rising like a tide. She
had never felt so at one with any human being as with this stranger.

Suddenly he moved--but not toward her. She saw with astonishment that he
was turning the switch, touching the self starter, and the next instant
backing the car out. The divine moment was gone. She would never forgive
him.

They drove back in silence, except for her occasional directions about
the road. Her jaw was set like a little vise. Never again, she was
saying to herself, would she allow herself to be a passenger. Hereafter
she would control. It didn't matter what happened to you, if you were
master of your own emotions. She remembered once that the husband of a
friend of hers had caught her in his arms in the anteroom of a box at
the opera during the darkness of a Wagnerian performance. She had felt
like frozen steel--so sure of herself that she hardly hated the man--she
felt more inclined to laugh at him. But this man who hadn't touched her,
left her feeling outraged, humiliated--because she had wanted him to
kiss her, to crush her to him----

They were at her door. She stepped out on the broad flat stones, under
the trellis on which the grapevines grew so thickly that not even the
flood of moonlight could penetrate the thick mass of verdure. The air
was full of the smell of grapes. She knew he was following her. Suddenly
she felt his hand, firm and confident on her shoulder, stopping her,
turning her round. She did not resist him--she felt neither resistant
nor acquiescent--only that it was all inevitable. He took her head in
his two hands, looking in the dark and half drawing her to him, half
bending down he pressed his lips hard agains