He put himself back many years.

He remembered the warm nights of July and August, profoundly still, the sky encrusted with stars, the little Mission garden exhaling the mingled perfumes that all through the scorching day had been distilled under the steady blaze of a summer's sun.

He saw himself as another person, arriving at this, their rendezvous.

All day long she had been in his mind.

All day long he had looked forward to this quiet hour that belonged to her.