It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Already she knew that she was overstaying her welcome. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. “The conventions do not matter one little bit. Then she stood up and looked around the room. There was no one else in the doorway. I had that coming. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart.
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