"That's good," Rilla said mechanically.

Then she was away from them all--oh, thank God, she was away from them all--Walter was waiting for her at the door.

He put his arm through hers silently and they went together down the moonlit road.
The frogs were singing in the marshes, the dim, ensilvered fields of home lay all around them.

The spring night was lovely and appealing.
Rilla felt that its beauty was an insult to her pain.

She would hate moonlight for ever.
"You know ?" said Walter.
"Yes.