She had learned not to cry for the moon any longer.

She wanted nothing now either in this world or the next except the love that was denied her.
Her thoughts went back to the day when she and Peter had first met and driven together through the twilit countryside to Abbencombe.

She remembered the sudden sadness which had fallen upon him and how she had tried to cheer him by repeating the verses of a little song.

It all seemed very long ago: "But sometimes God on His great white Throne Looks down from the Heaven above, And lays in the hands that are empty The tremulous Star of Love." The words seemed to speak themselves in her brain just as she herself had spoken them that day, with the car slipping swiftly through the winter dusk.

She could feel again the throb of the engine--see Peter's whimsical grey-blue eyes darken suddenly to a stern and tragic gravity.
For him and for her there could be no star.