Her lips were moving.

She was amazed to find she was repeating the one prayer she knew, the one Aunt Fanny had taught her in babyhood.

Why should she find herself praying?
Love--love love! She was a woman and she loved! So this was what it meant to be a woman; it meant to love! She was roused by the sound of Ruth saying good night to someone at the gate, invisible because of the intervening foliage.

Why, it must be dreadfully late.

The Dipper had moved away round to the south, and the heat of the day was all gone, and the air was full of the cool, scented breath of leaves and flowers and grass.