‘You could never take it on trust.’

He changed, laughed softly, and turned and took her in his arms, in the middle of the road.

‘Yes,’ he said softly.

And he kissed her face and brow, slowly, gently, with a sort of delicate happiness which surprised her extremely, and to which she could not respond. They were soft, blind kisses, perfect in their stillness. Yet she held back from them. It was like strange moths, very soft and silent, settling on her from the darkness of her soul. She was uneasy. She drew away.

‘Isn’t somebody coming?’ she said.

So they looked down the dark road, then set off again walking towards Beldover. Then suddenly, to show