By the Lord Harry, it was in his eye.

Where on earth d'you suppose he's gone ?" "God knows," said Garry and heartily wished he'd kept the grillroom verdict to himself.
At sunset Kenny blew the horn beneath the willow.
Twilight here among the vivid leaves was softly orange.

Where was the invisible lamp, Kenny wondered with his blood singing, that filled the world with golden dusk?
It lay reflected in the water and in the dim and yellowed forest paths behind him.

And there behind the gables of the farm, an autumn sunset focussed its softness into a brilliant blaze of color.
Later when life was kind and peace was in his heart, Kenny was to paint that picture with exquisite truth and restraint and call it "Afterglow." At the flutter of a cloak on the cliff-path he slipped behind the willow.
For an eternity it seemed he traced the forward sweep of the punt until it grated on the shore.

And the surprise perversely came to him.
"Kenny!" called Joan.
There was mischief and laughter in her voice--and welcome.