Were you sitting here?"
"About here. Do you know, it is refreshing to meet such a spontaneous
interest as yours?"
"Tell me, how do you write your things? Do the thoughts come to you
without conscious effort?"
"Yes, in a way. Things affect one pleasantly or otherwise, and the mood is
there. But the trouble then is to make the words reflect the love or hate
one's heart feels at the moment. Often it is useless even to try; one can
never find words adequately to express that languid gesture of your hand,
to define that evanescent thrill your laughter sends through one--"
Slowly the sun sank; a tremor quivered through the trees, and all was
still.
"Listen," he said, "do you hear the noise boiling away yonder in the
city?"
He noted how her dress tightened across her knee; he followed the curving
outline of her figure, saw how her bosom rose and sank, observed her face
with the darling dimple and the somewhat irregular nose; his blood stirred
and he moved closer to her. He spoke in fumbling, broken sentences:
"This is now the Isle of the Blest, and its name is Evenrest. The sun is
sinking; we are here--the world far off; it is exactly my dream of dreams.
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