He was vague and lost.
'Isn't it strange,' she said, suddenly putting her hand on his arm, with a loving impulse, 'how we always talk like this! I suppose we do love each other, in some way.' 'Oh yes,' he said; 'too much.' She laughed almost gaily.
'You'd have to have it your own way, wouldn't you ?' she teased.

'You could never take it on trust.' He changed, laughed softly, and turned and took her in his arms, in the middle of the road.
'Yes,' he said softly.
And he kissed her face and brow, slowly, gently, with a sort of delicate happiness which surprised her extremely, and to which she could not respond.

They were soft, blind kisses, perfect in their stillness.

Yet she held back from them.

It was like strange moths, very soft and silent, settling on her from the darkness of her soul.