"I came back and tried to find you. I was crying. I had to keep my parasol before my face so the man would not see. I'm—afraid—I am going to cry now."
"Don't cry. Laugh! Be as happy as you can. See how happy Darby is. He's slobbering all over your shoulder."
"I know," she said, half-laughing, half-crying, "he's a naughty fellow." Then she held out her hand to him, and said, "Thank you," in a small, choked voice.
He took it, and they looked intently at each other, their eyes filled with longing, their lips compressed, their bodies tense. Then he dropped her hand and turned away. At the door he stopped, and said, without looking at her—"You refused Edmund."
"Yes."
"Because you loved me?"
"Yes."
"Good-bye, Grace—darling."
"Good-bye, Derek—darling."
He returned home, still carrying the saddle over his arm. He walked slowly, his eyes travelling across the September blue of the lake to the far horizon where a faery city reared its towers and battlements of rosy clouds above Niagara's spray.
