"You go together? That is right. Moya, you have a genius for happiness!"

"I wish I had a genius for making people sleep who lie awake hours in the
night thinking about other people!"

"If you mean me, people of my age need very little sleep."

"May I kiss you good-night, Paul's mother?"

"You may kiss me because I am Paul's mother, not because I do not sleep."

Moya's lips touched a cheek as white and almost as cold as the frosted
window-panes through which the moon was glimmering. She thought of the icy
roses on her wedding dress.

Downstairs her father was smoking his bedtime cigar. Mrs. Creve, very
sleepy and cosy and flushed, leaned over the smouldering bed of coals. She
held out her plump, soft hand to Moya.

"Come here and be scolded! We have been scolding you steadily for the last
hour."

"If you want that young man to get his strength back, you'd better not
keep him up talking half the night," the colonel growled softly. "Do you
see what time it is?"

Moya knelt and leaned her head against her father. She reached one hand to
Mrs. Creve. They did not speak again till her weak moment had passed. "It
will be very soon," she said, pressing the warm hand that stroked her own.
"You will help me pack, aunt Annie; and then you'll stay--with father? I