Te Koperu dimly lit the river’s edge and then he turned back and ran till he came to the tree hung arc by his own house. There in the black still water against the frowning range of bush he slowed down, and finally stopped against the rocks at a place where a clump of totara above hid the stars.
He drew up the rug and wrapped it about them and then he drew Valerie into his arms. He felt her grow hot and tense at once, but he had not set out with the intention of making love to her. He was compounded of strange vagaries and powerful moods, and few women had ever been able to impose sentimentality upon him when he did not want it. He liked to vision experience as pictures, and he tried to make life follow the pictures he painted with his imagination. He was not always able to do so, he was fast coming to a stage with Valerie when he would not be able to do so, but this night his mood was dominant. He held her without attempting to kiss her.
Then he began to recite:
Full of tumultuous life and great repose,
Where, twice a day,
The purposeless, glad ocean comes and goes,
Under high cliffs, and far from the huge town,
I sit me down.
For want of me the world’s course will not fail;
When all its work is done the lie shall rot;
The truth is great, and shall prevail,
When none cares whether it prevail or not.
All the fever died out of Valerie. She was afraid to move lest she should break the spell those lines had put upon her. She knew that in saying them he had told her something significant about himself. And contrary to
