Page:Arthur Stringer - Twin Tales.djvu/252

242 "It's the most wonderful night I have ever known," her small voice answered through the dusk.

"It is to me, too," he told her, conscious of some gathering tide which was creeping up to him, which was taking possession of him, which was carrying him along on its tumbling and racing immensities.

"And it can never happen again," she said, as much to herself as to him.

"Why can't it?" he demanded.

"How can it?" she quietly countered.

"But I intend to make it!" he cried.

She sat back against the arbor railing, apparently startled by the passion in his voice.

"I'd rather you didn't say things like that," she told him.

"Why?" he asked.

"I want you to be always wonderful to me."

"But I mean it," he said, his voice shaking.

She stood up with what seemed her first gesture of timidity. He could see her face,