He touched it.
"_A bientot_," she said.
"On the lawn out there--farther out, in the starlight," he whispered--his voice broke--"my darling--" She bent her head, passing slowly before him, turned, looked back, her answer in her eyes, her lips, in every limb, every line and contour of her, as she stood a moment, looking back.
Austin and Boots were talking volubly when he returned to the tables now veiled in a fine haze of aromatic smoke.

Gerald stuck close to him, happy, excited, shy by turns.

Others came up on every side--young, frank, confident fellows, nice in bearing, of good speech and manner.
And outside waited their pretty partners of the younger set, gossiping in hall, on stairs and veranda in garrulous bevies, all filmy silks and laces and bright-eyed expectancy.
The long windows were open to the veranda; Selwyn, with his arm through Gerald's, walked to the railing and looked out across the fragrant starlit waste.

And very far away they heard the sea intoning the hymn of the four winds.
Then the elder man withdrew his arm and stood apart for a while.

A little later he descended to the lawn, crossed it, and walked straight out into the waste.
The song of the sea was rising now.