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houseless。 There was nothing to break the lines of the horizon but
a group of gaunt grey stones； the remains； so he told himself； of
some ancient menhir； common enough to the lonely desert lands of
Brittany。 In general the stones lie overthrown and scattered； but
this particular specimen had by some strange chance remained
undisturbed through all the centuries。 Mildly interested； Flight
Commander Raffleton strolled leisurely towards it。 The moon was at
its zenith。 How still the quiet night must have been was impressed
upon him by the fact that he distinctly heard； and counted； the
strokes of a church clock which must have been at least six miles
away。 He remembers looking at his watch and noting that there was a
slight difference between his own and the church time。 He made it
eight minutes past twelve。 With the dying away of the last
vibrations of the distant bell the silence and the solitude of the
place seemed to return and settle down upon it with increased
insistence。 While he was working it had not troubled him； but
beside the black shadows thrown by those hoary stones it had the
effect almost of a presence。 It was with a sense of relief that he
contemplated returning to his machine and starting up his engine。
It would whir and buzz and give back to him a comfortable feeling of
life and security。 He would walk round the stones just once and
then be off。 It was wonderful how they had defied old Time。 As
they had been placed there； quite possibly ten thousand years ago；
so they still stood； the altar of that vast； empty sky…roofed
temple。 And while he was gazing at them； his cigar between his
lips； struggling with a strange forgotten impulse that was tugging
at his knees； there came from the very heart of the great grey
stones the measured rise and fall of a soft； even breathing。
Young Raffleton frankly confesses that his first impulse was to cut
and run。 Only his soldier's training kept his feet firm on the
heather。 Of course； the explanation was simple。 Some animal had
made the place its nest。 But then what animal was ever known to
sleep so soundly as not to be disturbed by human footsteps？ If
wounded； and so unable to escape； it would not be breathing with
that quiet； soft regularity； contrasting so strangely with the
stillness and the silence all round。 Possibly an owl's nest。 Young
owlets make that sort of noisethe 〃snorers；〃 so country people
call them。 Young Raffleton threw away his cigar and went down upon
his knees to grope among the shadows； and； doing so； he touched
something warm and soft and yielding。
But it wasn't an owl。 He must have touched her very lightly； for
even then she did not wake。 She lay there with her head upon her
arm。 And now close to her； his eyes growing used to the shadows； he
saw her quite plainly； the wonder of the parted lips； the gleam of
the white limbs beneath their flimsy covering。
Of course； what he ought to have done was to have risen gently and
moved away。 Then he could have coughed。 And if that did not wake
her he might have touched her lightly； say； on the shoulder； and
have called to her； first softly； then a little louder；
〃Mademoiselle；〃 or 〃Mon enfant。〃 Even better； he might have stolen
away on tiptoe and left her there sleeping。
This idea does not seem to have occurred to him。 One makes the
excuse for him that he was but three…and…twenty； that； framed in the
purple moonlight； she seemed to him the most beautiful creature his
eyes had ever seen。 And then there was the brooding mystery of it
all； that atmosphere of far…off primeval times from which the roots
of life still draw their sap。 One takes it he forgot that he was
Flight Commander Raffleton； officer and gentleman； forgot the proper
etiquette applying to the case of ladies found sleeping upon lonely
moors without a chaperon。 Greater still； the possibility that he
never thought of anything at all； but； just impelled by a power
beyond himself； bent down and kissed her。
Not a platonic kiss upon the brow； not a brotherly kiss upon the
cheek； but a kiss full upon the parted lips； a kiss of worship and
amazement； such as that with which Adam in all probability awakened
Eve。
Her eyes opened； and； just a little sleepily； she looked at him。
There could have been no doubt in her mind as to what had happened。
His lips were still pressing hers。 But she did not seem in the
least surprised； and most certainly not angry。 Raising herself to a
sitting posture； she smiled and held out her hand that he might help
her up。 And； alone in that vast temple； star…roofed and moon…
illumined； beside that grim grey altar of forgotten rites； hand in
hand they stood and looked at one another。
〃I beg your pardon；〃 said Commander Raffleton。 〃I'm afraid I have
disturbed you。〃
He remembered afterwards that in his confusion he had spoken to her
in English。 But she answered him in French； a quaint； old…fashioned
French such as one rarely finds but in the pages of old missals。 He
would have had some difficulty in translating it literally； but the
meaning of it was； adapted to our modern idiom：
〃Don't mention it。 I'm so glad you've come。〃
He gathered she had been expecting him。 He was not quite sure
whether he ought not to apologise for being apparently a little
late。 True； he had no recollection of any such appointment。 But
then at that particular moment Commander Raffleton may be said to
have had no consciousness of anything beyond just himself and the
wondrous other beside him。 Somewhere outside was moonlight and a
world； but all that seemed unimportant。 It was she who broke the
silence。
〃How did you get here？〃 she asked。
He did not mean to be enigmatical。 He was chiefly concerned with
still gazing at her。
〃I flew here；〃 he answered。 Her eyes opened wider at that； but with
interest； not doubt。
〃Where are your wings？〃 she asked。 She was leaning sideways； trying
to get a view of his back。
He laughed。 It made her seem more human； that curiosity about his
back。
〃Over there；〃 he answered。 She looked； and for the first time saw
the great shimmering sails gleaming like silver under the moonlight。
She moved towards it； and he followed； noticing without surprise
that the heather seemed to make no sign of yielding to the pressure
of her white feet。
She halted a little away from it； and he came and stood beside her。
Even to Commander Raffleton himself it looked as if the great wings
were quivering； like the outstretched pinions of a bird preening
itself before flight。
〃Is it alive？〃 she asked。
〃Not till I whisper to it；〃 he answered。 He was losing a little of
his fear of her。 She turned to him。
〃Shall we go？〃 she asked。
He stared at her。 She was quite serious； that was evident。 She was
to put her hand in his and go away with him。 It was all settled。
That is why he had come。 To her it did not matter where。 That was
his affair。 But where he went she was to go。 That was quite
clearly the programme in her mind。
To his credit； let it be recorded； he did make an effort。 Against
all the forces of nature； against his twenty…three years and the red
blood pul