toward the declining sun. He took her hand and led her to the door. “Can’t you give me a few, a very few moments? You hold me off and won’t let me say what I often have in mind to ask you.” She sat beside him where he placed her and looked wonderingly into his face, but not in the least as if she feared what his question might be, or as if she suspected anything personal. “You know it’s not right that this sort of thing should go on indefinitely?”

“I don’t know what sort of thing you mean.” She lifted grave, wide eyes to his — those clear gray eyes — and his heart admonished him that he had begun to love to look into their blue and green depths, but heed the admonishment he would not.

“I mean working day in and