Susan began to cry bitterly.  She was all alone in the world, she said to herself, she had never had a chance, like other girls!  She wanted a home to-night, she wanted her mother and father—–!

Her handkerchief was drenched, she tried to dry her eyes on the harsh hem of the sheet.  Her tears rushed on and on, there seemed to be no stopping them.  Billy did not care for her, she sobbed to herself, he took the whole thing as a joke!  And, beginning thus, what would he feel after a few years of poverty, dark rooms and unpaid bills?

Even if he did love her, thought Susan bursting out afresh, how was she to buy a trousseau, how were they to furnish rooms, and pay rent, “one always has to pay a month’s rent in advance!” she thought gloomily.

“I believe I am going to be one of those weepy, sensitive women, whose noses are always red,” said Susan, tossing restlessly in the dark.  “I shall go mad if I can’t get to sleep!” And she sat up, reached for her big, loose Japanese wrapper and explored with bare feet for her slippers.

Ah—­that was better!  She sat on the top step, her head resting against the rough pillar of the porch, and felt a grateful rush of cool air on her flushed face.  Her headache lessened suddenly, her thoughts ran more quietly.

There was no moon yet.  Susan stared at the dim profile of the forest, and at the arch of the sky, spattered with stars.  The exquisite beauty of the summer night soothed and quieted her.  After a time she went noiselessly down the dark pathway to the spring-house for a drink.

The water was deliciously cool and fresh.  Susan, draining a second cup of it, jumped as a voice nearby said quietly: 

“Don’t be frightened—­it’s me, Billy!”

“Heaven alive—­how you scared me!” gasped Susan, catching at the hand he held out to lead her back to the comparative brightness of the path.  “Billy, why aren’t you asleep?”

“Too happy, I guess,” he said simply, his eyes on her.

She held his hands at arm’s length, and stared at him wistfully.

“Are you so happy, Bill?” she asked.

“Well, what do you think?” The words were hardly above a whisper, he wrenched his hands suddenly free from her, and she was in his arms, held close against his heart.  “What do you think, my own girl?” said Billy, close to her ear.

“Heavens, I don’t want him to care this much!” said the terrified daughter of Eve, to herself.  Breathless, she freed herself, and held him at arm’s length again.

“Billy, I can’t stay down here—­even for a second—­unless you promise not to!”

“But darling—­however, I won’t!  And will you come over here to the fence for just a minute—­the moon’s coming up!”

Billy Oliver—­the same old Billy!—­trembling with eagerness to have Susan Brown—­the unchanged Susan!—­come and stand by a fence, and watch the moon rise!  It was very extraordinary, it was pleasant, and curiously exciting, too.