the hall, protesting. I had gone to the library
for a book, and their voices reached me.

"I thought you and I might have one evening without the others."

"Oh, don't be silly, Anthony."

I think my heart lost a beat. Here was a lover asking his mistress for a
moment--and she laughed at him. It did not fit in with my ideas of young
romance.

Yet late that night I heard the murmur of their voices and looked out
into the white night. They stood together by the sun-dial, and his arm
was about her, her head on his shoulder. And it was not the first time
that a pair of lovers had stood by that dial under the moon.

I went back to bed, but I could not sleep. I lighted my bedside lamp,
and read _Vanity Fair_. I find Thackeray an excellent corrective when I
am emotionally keyed up.

Nancy, too, was awake; I could see her light shining across the hall.
She came in, finally, and sat on the foot of my bed.

"Your viking was singing as we passed his boat--"

"Singing?"

"Yes, hymns, Elizabeth. The others laughed, Anthony and Mimi, but I
didn't laugh. His voice is--wonderful--"

She had on a white-crepe _peignoir_, and there was no color in her
cheeks. Her skin had the soft whiteness of a rose petal. Her eyes were
like stars. As I lay there and looked at her I wondered if it was
Anthony's kisses or the memory of Olaf's singing which had made her eyes
shine like that.

I had heard him sing, and I said so, "in church."

Her arms clasped her knees. "Isn't it queer that he goes to church and
sings hymns?"

"Why queer? I go to church."

"Yes. But you are different. You belong to another generation,
Elizabeth, and he doesn't look it."

I knew what she meant. I had thought the same thing when I first saw him
walking up the aisle. "He has asked us to lunch with him to-morrow on
his boat."

It was the first time that I had mentioned it. Somehow I had not cared
to speak of it before Anthony.

She showed her surprise. "So soon? Doesn't that sound a
little--pushing?"

"It sounds as if he goes after a thing when he wants it."

"Yes, it does. I believe I should like to accept. But I can't to-morrow.
There's a clambake, and I have promised the crowd."

"He will ask you again."

"Will he? You can say 'yes' for Wednesday then. And I'll keep it."

"I am not sure that we had better accept."

"Why not?"

"Well, there's Anthony."

She slid from the bed and stood looking down at me. "You think he
wouldn't like it?"