They started back down the sidewalk, in no hurry. Effie wandered into the middle of the street, and Henry followed, but the street was dirt and gravel and broken seashells, and they retreated after a few yards. Just before they reached Aunt Lizzie’s, the moon came out again from behind the clouds and caught them in a bright segment of the sidewalk. Effie had gone a pace ahead. She seemed to give off her own light. Henry reached forward and grabbed her hips and pulled her back against him. He didn’t want the night to end. Neither did she. She took his hand and pulled him onto the next-door neighbor’s lawn, and they dropped their empty glasses and got to their knees. The grass was dewy and cold, but they wouldn’t have to lie in it: he told her to bend over, gently nudging her down, and she complied, and after a little searching, a little adjusting—they’d never done it this way before—he found her.