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“That is the reddest kiss you will ever have. ”

When Syson next looked up, at the sound of voices, he saw in the shadow the keeper with his mouth on the throat of his beloved, whose head was thrown back, and whose hair had fallen, so that one rough rope of dark brown hair hung across his bare arm.

“No,” the woman answered. “I am not upset because he’s gone. You won’t understand … ”

Syson could not distinguish what the man said. Hilda replied, clear and distinct:

“You know I love you. He has gone quite out of my life—don’t trouble about him … ” He kissed her, murmuring. She laughed hollowly.

“Yes,” she said, indulgent. “We will be married, we will be married. But not just yet. ” He spoke to her again. Syson heard nothing for a time. Then she said:

“You must go home, now, dear—you will get no sleep. ”

Again was heard the murmur of the keeper’s voice, troubled by fear and passion.

“But why should we be married at once?” she said. “What more would you have, by being married? It is most beautiful as it is. ”

At last he pulled on his coat and departed. She stood at the gate, not watching him, but looking over the sunny country.

When at last she had gone, Syson also departed, going back to town.