The Raft
There was no time for talking. From bank to bank ahead of them the
stream leapt palely, like the white mane of a plunging horse. Putting
his arm about her, he lifted her rapidly into his punt. The empty boat
hurried on into the darkness. Working his way upstream, he ran into
safety in a bed of rushes.
“Glory, if I'd lost you!”
She shook her head laughing, “You couldn't.”
He knelt beside her, clasping her hands. “But how----? What were you
doing?”
“Dreaming. Just wondering. While I drifted, they slipped from the
rowlocks.”
“Dreaming!” He stooped his face. “Of what--of whom?”
Her voice sank. “Must I tell?”
From his sky-window the man in the moon drew aside the curtain; he
peered out knowingly.
Peter had her in his arms. His lips touched hers in the dusk. His eyes
met hers--Kay's eyes; even in the darkness he knew them.
“And you do care?---- You really want me?”
She drooped her head against his shoulder. “Oh, dearest, I always
wanted----. But I'm a girl, Peter; I didn't dare----.”
THE END