"Oh, well, we'll see the Hudson first. You can't see it from here, can you?" She felt a sudden contempt for the unimaginativeness of living like the Tracys. "You've no idea what it is from Eaglewood—and better still from up above—from the ridge of Thundertop. The river's like a sea at that hour. You don't speak German?" He made a negative gesture, and she added: "I was only going to quote something from Faust—you'll read it some day—but now just listen to the sound:

"'Die Sonne tönt nach alter Weise

In Brudersphären Wettgesang.

Und ihre vorgeschriebene Reise

Vollendet sie mit Donnergang.

Ihr Anblick giebt den Engeln Stärke

Wenn keiner sie ergründen mag,

Die unbegreiflich hohen Werke

Sind herrlich wie am ersten Tag.'

"Isn't that beautiful to you, just as mere music, without any meaning? Besides, that whole question of meaning in poetry … I have an old friend I wrangle with about it by the hour … " She broke off, and gathering up her whole attention, poured it for a moment into the gaze she shed on him. "I have an idea! If you're not afraid of getting too tired (you've been ill, I know), what do you say to my bringing the car down to the corner of the lane tomorrow, about half an hour before sunrise? I'll run you up to Thundertop first, and we'll have a picnic breakfast by the pool. Does that tempt you? Only you'll have to get up—when? Half-past two, I suppose! And we'll see the stars fade like flowers, and a new world born—don't you feel it's a new world every morning? And it will be all ours, with no one to interfere, or spoil it—Oh, Vance," she broke off, lifting her wrist to her short-sighted eyes. "I do believe my watch has stopped! The brute! Can you tell me the time? I've got to meet a friend at the station, and it's nearly dark, and the car's only going on one leg… ." He pulled out a new-looking watch, and gave her the hour. "Oh, misery! can I make it? Well, I'll have to try, or Lewis won't have his suitcase till tomorrow; and he loathes borrowing pyjamas." She stood poised in the dusk of the porch as if her outcry had given her wings; then she turned and held out her hand. This time Vance took it in his. "Well—so long. Don't oversleep yourself! I'll be on the stroke tomorrow," she laughed.

She ran down the steps and scrambled into the car, and the Providence which cares for the improvident carried her to the station just in time for the arrival of the train from New York.

A perspiring throng was pouring out of the station, but she had to wait for some time before she was joined by a fair-haired young man in a light gray suit, whose movements had the deliberation of a nervous traveller determined to keep cool.