They tell me that ladies find it useful whiles." The girl's strained face watched him at first in mystification, and then broke slowly into a smile.

Youth came back into it, the smile changed to a laugh, a low rippling laugh like far-away bells.

She took both his hands.
"You are kind," she said, "you are kind and brave.

You are a de-ar." And then she kissed him.
Now, as far as Dickson could remember, no one had ever kissed him except his wife.

The light touch of her lips on his forehead was like the pressing of an electric button which explodes some powerful charge and alters the face of a countryside.