In the peace of the midnight world, in the peace of her presence, he was aware of a tranquillity, a rest that he had not known in weeks.

Vaguely first, then uneasily, he remembered that he had not known it since her departure, and shook off the revelation with instinctive recoil--dismissed it, smiled at it to have done with it.

For such things could not happen.
The woods were fragrant as they passed; a little rill, swelling from the thicket of tangled jewel-weed, welled up, bubbling in the starlight.

She knelt down and drank from her cupped hands, and offered him the same sweet cup, holding it fragrantly to his lips.
And there, on their knees under the stars, he touched her full child-like lips with his; and, laughing, she let him kiss her again--but not a third time, swaying back from her knees to avoid him, then rising lithely to her feet.
"The poor nymph and the great god Kelly!" she said; "a new hero for the pantheon: a new dryad to weep over.

Kelly, I believe your story of your golden cloud, now." "Didn't you credit it before ?" "No." "But now that I've kissed you, you do believe it ?" "Y-yes." "Then to fix that belief more firmly--" "Oh, no, you mustn't, Kelly--" she cried, her soft voice hinting of hidden laughter.