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           Formonthsitseemedthathehadalternatedbetweenbeingbornealongastreamofloveorfascination,orleftinaneddy,andintheeddieshehadnotdesiredtothink,rathertobepickeduponawave’stopandsweptalongagain.

           "Thedespairing,dyingautumnandourlove—howwelltheyharmonize!"saidEleanorsadlyonedayastheylaydrippingbythewater.

           "TheIndiansummerofourhearts—"heceased.

           "Tellme,"shesaidfinally,"wasshelightordark?"

           "Light."

           "WasshemorebeautifulthanIam?"

           "Idon’tknow,"saidAmoryshortly.

           OnenighttheywalkedwhilethemoonroseandpouredagreatburdenofgloryoverthegardenuntilitseemedfairylandwithAmoryandEleanor,dimphantasmalshapes,expressingeternalbeautyincuriouselfinlovemoods.Thentheyturnedoutofthemoonlightintothetrelliseddarknessofavine-hungpagoda,wheretherewerescentssoplaintiveastobenearlymusical.

           "Lightamatch,"shewhispered."Iwanttoseeyou."

           Scratch!Flare!

           Thenightandthescarredtreeswerelikesceneryinaplay,andtobetherewithEleanor,shadowyandunreal,seemedsomehowoddlyfamiliar.Amorythoughthowitwasonlythepastthateverseemedstrangeandunbelievable.Thematchwentout.

           "It’sblackaspitch."

           "We’rejustvoicesnow,"murmuredEleanor,"littlelonesomevoices.Lightanother."

           "Thatwasmylastmatch."

           Suddenlyhecaughtherinhisarms.

           "Youaremine—youknowyou’remine!"hecriedwildly...themoonlighttwistedinthroughthevinesandlistened...