“My love.”

And he drew near, and she drew near.

“Anna,” he said, in wonder and the birthpain of love.

“My love,” she said, her voice growing rapturous. And they kissed on the mouth, in rapture and surprise, long, real kisses. The kiss lasted, there among the moonlight. He kissed her again, and she kissed him. And again they were kissing together. Till something happened in him, he was strange. He wanted her. He wanted her exceedingly. She was something new. They stood there folded, suspended in the night. And his whole being quivered with surprise, as from a blow.

He wanted her, and he wanted to tell her so. But the shock was too great to him. He had never realized before.