but you are the loveliest woman I ever met."

She smiled at his vehemence.

"Then, if you love me, what does it matter?" "If you loved me,
you would tell me," said he, with a quickness which surprised himself.

"But I have nothing to tell, and I don't love you--yet."

He let her hand fall with an impatient gesture; and at that moment
Blunt--who could restrain himself no longer--came up.

"Fine night, Mr. Frere?"

"Yes, fine enough."

"No signs of a breeze yet, though."

"No, not yet."

Just then, from out of the violet haze that hung over the horizon,
a strange glow of light broke.

"Hallo," cries Frere, "did you see that?"

All had seen it, but they looked for its repetition in vain.
Blunt rubbed his eyes.

"I saw it," he said, "distinctly. A flash of light." They strained
their eyes to pierce through the obscurity.