There was a glint
of amber in them. The heart in him went thumping. He caught his
breath. Out, jerked, then, certain words that he tried hard to make
ordinary---
'But surely--we have met before--I think I know you---'
He just said it, swallowing his breath with a gulp upon the unfinished
sentence. But he said it--somewhere else, and not here in the twilight
street of little Bourcelles. For his sight swam somehow far away, and
he was giddy with the height. The roofs of the houses lay in a sea of
shadow below him, and the street wound through them like a ribbon of
thin lace. The tree-tops waved very softly in a wind that purred and
sighed beneath his feet, and this wind was a violet little wind, that
bent them all one way and set the lines and threads of gold a-quiver
to their fastenings. For the fastenings were not secure; any minute he
might fall. And the threads, he saw, all issued like rays from two
central shining points of delicate, transparent amber, radiating forth
into an exquisite design that caught the stars. Yet the stars were not
reflected in them. It was they who lit the stars....
He _was_ dizzy. He tried speech again.
'I told you I _should_--' But it was not said aloud apparently.
Two little twinkling feet were folded. Two hands, he saw, stretched
down to draw him close.
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