"You two had better wait for me at the edge of the trail yonder, and
keep a lookout for folks going by. Don't let them see you hanging round
so near. Do you hear? I'm all right."

With her hand still meaningly lifted, she stood gazing at the two
figures until they slowly receded towards the distant trail. Then she
turned as he approached her, the reflection of the moonlit road striking
up into her shining eyes and eager waiting face. A dozen questions were
upon his lips, a dozen replies were ready upon hers. But they were never
uttered, for the next moment her eyes half closed, she leaned forward
and fell--into a kiss.

She was the first to recover, holding his face in her hands, turned
towards the moonlight, her own in passionate shadow. "Listen," she said
quickly. "They think I came here to look for something I left in my
desk. They thought it high fun to come with me--these two. I did come to
look for something--not in my desk, but yours."

"Was it this?" he whispered, taking the myrtle from his breast. She
seized it with a light cry, putting it first to her lips and then to
his. Then clasping his face again between her soft palms, she turned it
to the window and said: "Look at them and not at me."

He did so--seeing the two figures slowly walking in the trail. And
holding her there firmly against his breast, it seemed a blasphemy to
ask the question that had been upon his lips.

"That's not all," she murmured, moving his face backwards and forwards
to her lips as if it were something to which she was giving breath.
"When we came to the woods I felt that you would be here."