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           Andwhenthesunwasouttheywalkedtoo,lazedonthebeach,swam;forhewasteachinghertoswim.

           Sometimeswhenhedidn’tknowhewasbeingwatchedMeggiewouldlookathimandtrydesperatelytoimprinthisfaceuponherbrain’score,rememberinghowinspiteoftheloveshehadborneFrank,withthepassingoftheyearshisimagehaddimmed,thelookofhim.Thereweretheeyes,thenose,themouth,thestunningsilverwingsinthatblackhair,thelonghardbodywhichhadkepttheslendernessandtautnessofyouth,yethadsetalittle,lostelasticity.Andhewouldturntofindherwatchinghim,alookinhiseyesofhauntedgrief,adoomedlook.Sheunderstoodtheimplicitmessage,orthoughtshedid;hemustgo,backtotheChurchandhisduties.Neveragainwiththesamespirit,perhaps,butmoreabletoserve.Foronlythosewhohaveslippedandfallenknowthevicissitudesoftheway.

           Oneday,whenthesunhadgonedownfarenoughtobloodytheseaandstainthecoralsandahazyyellow,heturnedtoherastheylayonthebeach.

           "Meggie,I’veneverbeensohappy,orsounhappy."

           "Iknow,Ralph."

           "Ibelieveyoudo.IsitwhyIloveyou?You’renotmuchoutoftheordinaryway,Meggie,andyetyouaren’tordinaryatall.DidIsenseit,allthoseyearsago?Imusthave,Isuppose.Mypassionfortitianhair!LittledidIknowwhereitwouldleadme.Iloveyou,Meggie."

           "Areyouleaving?"

           "Tomorrow.Imust.MyshipsailsforGenoainlessthanaweek."

           "Genoa?"

           "Rome,actually.Foralongtime,perhapstherestofmylife.