"I dare not, Rowland," she answered. His age was not far from fifty. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. ’ ‘Yes, but if it is only we that know, it is of no use at all to me. He pretended to be unaware of the mishap.
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