amazement, such as that with which Adam in all probability awakened
Eve.

Her eyes opened, and, just a little sleepily, she looked at him.
There could have been no doubt in her mind as to what had happened.
His lips were still pressing hers. But she did not seem in the
least surprised, and most certainly not angry. Raising herself to a
sitting posture, she smiled and held out her hand that he might help
her up. And, alone in that vast temple, star-roofed and moon-
illumined, beside that grim grey altar of forgotten rites, hand in
hand they stood and looked at one another.

"I beg your pardon," said Commander Raffleton. "I'm afraid I have
disturbed you."

He remembered afterwards that in his confusion he had spoken to her
in English. But she answered him in French, a quaint, old-fashioned
French such as one rarely finds but in the pages of old missals. He
would have had some difficulty in translating it literally, but the
meaning of it was, adapted to our modern idiom:

"Don't mention it. I'm so glad you've come."

He gathered she had been expecting him. He was not quite sure
whether he ought not to apologise for being apparently a little
late. True, he had no recollection of any such appointment. But
then at that particular moment Commander Raffleton may be said to
have had no consciousness of anything beyond just himself and the
wondrous other beside him. Somewhere outside was moonlight and a
world; but all that seemed unimportant. It was she who broke the