She raised herself from her couch of leaves.
Then from one of the cottages in the tiny village a blue coil of smoke rose into the air.
"It is time," said Chayne, and they rose and hand in hand walked down the slope of the hill to the house.

Sylvia unlatched the door noiselessly and went in.

Chayne stepped in after her; and in the silent hall they took farewell of one another.
"Good-by, my dear," she whispered, with the tears in her eyes and in her voice, and she clung to him a little and so let him go.

She held the door ajar until the sound of his footsteps had died away--and after that.

For she fancied that she heard them still, since, she so deeply wished to hear them.