A breath of land breeze had started in the pine woods, and was going out bearing a tribute of sweet odours to the sea. The disc of the sun sank below the black line etched against a crimson sky. Softly and faintly in the far distance some passing creole hailed another with a long sweet call. They reached the edge of the clearing, and went on through the deepening twilight of the pines. There were no words in all the world quite true enough to speak in that great murmurous stillness that was in the woods and in their hearts. At last they came to a path beyond which she would not let him go, thinking it better for this last time to go on alone.

“Good-night,” she said lingeringly; and he held her close and kissed her, whispering good-night, then stood and watched her slender, swaying figure as it grew indistinct between the trees; and just before it vanished he called out guardedly.

“Say,” he summoned, “come here!”

She went laughing back to him. “You-all are bigoty,” she said, “beginning to order me about!”

He took her hands, and held her from him so that he could see her face. “You mustn’t be mad at me,” he said; “but there’s something I forgot to tell you—I’m Collister.”