“Oh, I left my bike in the village.  I shall walk and pick it up there.”

Rachel took up her thick coat and slipped it on again.  She would walk with him to the road, she said—­there were some more things to say.

Janet watched them go out into the wide frosty night, where the sky was shedding its clouds, and the temperature was falling rapidly.  She realized that they were in that stage of passion when everything is unreal outside the one supreme thing, and all other life passes like a show half-seen.  And all the while the name Tanner—­Dick Tanner—­echoed in her mind.  Such a simple thing to put a careless question to Rachel!  Yet perhaps—­after all—­not so simple.

Meanwhile the two lovers were together on the path through the stubbles, walking hand-in-hand through the magic of the moonlight.

“Will you write a little line to my mother to-morrow?”

“Yes, of course.  But—­”

He caught her long breath.

“I have prepared the way, darling.  I promise you—­it will be all right.”

“But why—­why—­didn’t I see you first?” It was a stifled cry, which seemed somehow to speak for them both.  And she added, bitterly, “It’s no good talking—­it can’t ever be the same—­to you, or to your people.”

“It shall be the same!  Or rather, we shall owe you a double share of love to make up to you—­for that horrible time.  Forget it, dear—­make yourself forget it.  My mother would tell you so at once.”

“Isn’t she—­very strict about divorce?”

Ellesborough hesitated—­just a moment.

“She couldn’t have any doubts about your case—­dearest—­who could?  You fell among thieves, and—­”

“And you’re picking me up, and taking me to the inn?”

He pressed her hand passionately.  They walked in silence till the gate appeared.

“Go back, dearest.  I shall be over on Sunday.”

“Not till then?”

“I’m afraid not.  If the peace news comes tomorrow, the camp’ll go mad, and I shall have to look after them.”

They paused at the gate, and he kissed her.  She lay passive in his arms, the moonlight touched her brown hair, and the beautiful curves of her cheek and throat.

“Wasn’t it heavenly to-day?” she whispered.

“Heavenly!  Go home!”

She turned back towards the farm, drawing her cloak and its fur collar close round her, against the cold.  And indeed Ellesborough was no sooner gone, the rush of the motor cycle along the distant road had no sooner died away, than a shiver ran through her which was more than physical.  So long as he was there, she was happy, excited, hopeful.  And when he was not there, the protecting screen had fallen, and she was exposed to all the stress and terror of the storm raging in her own mind.

“Why can’t I forget it all—­everything!  It’s dead—­it’s dead!” she said to herself again and again in an anguish, as she walked back through the broad open field where the winter-sown corn was just springing in the furrows—­the moon was so bright that she could see the tiny green spears of it.