Now I must go in.

I must tell my maid and arrange to steal away to-night." They stood up, and he held her in his arms for a moment.

Though her lips met his freely enough, he was very conscious of the reserve with which she yielded herself to him, conscious of it and thankful, too.

They walked up the path together, and as they went she plucked a red rose and thrust it through his buttonhole.
"If we had no dreams," she said softly, "life would not be possible.
Perhaps some day even we may pluck roses together." He raised her fingers to his lips.

It was not often that they lapsed into sentiment.