man I marry--"

And it seemed to Reggie that a tall, handsome, brilliant stranger
stepped in front of him and took his place--the kind of man that Anne
and he had seen often at the theatre, walking on to the stage from
nowhere, without a word catching the heroine in his arms, and after one
long, tremendous look, carrying her off to anywhere...

Reggie bowed to his vision. "Yes, I see," he said huskily.

"Do you?" said Anne. "Oh, I do hope you do. Because I feel so horrid
about it. It's so hard to explain. You know I've never--" She stopped.
Reggie looked at her. She was smiling. "Isn't it funny?" she said.
"I can say anything to you. I always have been able to from the very
beginning."

He tried to smile, to say "I'm glad." She went on. "I've never known any
one I like as much as I like you. I've never felt so happy with any one.
But I'm sure it's not what people and what books mean when they talk
about love. Do you understand? Oh, if you only knew how horrid I feel.
But we'd be like... like Mr. and Mrs. Dove."

That did it. That seemed to Reginald final, and so terribly true that he
could hardly bear it. "Don't drive it home," he said, and he turned away
from Anne and looked across the lawn. There was the gardener's cottage,
with the dark ilex-tree beside it. A wet, blue thumb of transparent
smoke hung above the chimney. It didn't look real. How his throat
ached! Could he speak? He had a shot. "I must be getting along home," he
croaked, and he began walking across the lawn. But Anne ran after him.
"No, don't. You can't go yet," she said imploringly. "You can't possibly
go away feeling like that." And she stared up at him frowning, biting
her lip.

"Oh, that's all right," said Reggie, giving himself a shake. "I'll...
I'll--" And he waved his hand as much to say "get over it."

"But this is awful," said Anne. She clasped her hands and stood in front
of him. "Surely you do see how fatal it would be for us to marry, don't
you?"

"Oh, quite, quite," said Reggie, looking at her with haggard eyes.

"How wrong, how wicked, feeling as I do. I mean, it's all very well for
Mr. and Mrs. Dove. But imagine that in real life--imagine it!"

"Oh, absolutely," said Reggie, and he started to walk on. But again Anne
stopped him. She tugged at his sleeve, and to his astonishment, this
time, instead of laughing, she looked like a little girl who was going
to cry.

"Then why, if you understand, are you so un-unhappy?" she wailed