It will do you no harm, and--and perhaps--perhaps I shall like to remember it." She bent down and kissed my forehead as I knelt before her.

"Poor Simon," she whispered, as her hair brushed mine.

Then her hand was gradually and gently withdrawn.

I looked up to see her face; her lips were smiling but there seemed a dew on her lashes.

She laughed, and the laugh ended in a little gasp, as though a sob had fought with it.