because she was going for a walk with him; and green would enchain the
eye out on the sere ground and under the stripped trees. The
flecklessness of her long gloves drew your thoughts to winter
rather--to its one beauteous gift dropped from soiled clouds. A
slender toque brought out the keenness in the oval of her face. From
it rose one backward-sweeping feather of green shaded to coral at the
tip; and there your fancy may have cared to see lingering the last
radiance of whiter-sunset skies.

He kept his seat with his back to the manuscript from which he had
repulsed her; and his eyes swept loyally over her as she
waited. Though she could scarcely trust herself to speak, still less
could she endure the silence. With her face turned toward the windows
opening on the lawn, she stretched out her arm toward him and softly
shook his hat at him.

"The sun sets--you remember how many minutes after four," she said,
with no other tone than that of quiet warning. "I marked the minutes
in the almanac for you the other night after the children had gone to
bed, so that you would not forget. You know how short the twilights
are even when the day is clear. It is cloudy to-day and there will not
be any twilight. The children said they would not be at home until
after dark, but they may come sooner; it may be a trick. They have
threatened to catch us this year in one way or another, and you know
they must not do that--not this year! There must be one more Christmas
with all its old ways--even if it must be without its old mysteries."

He did not reply at once and then not relevantly:

"I heard you playing."