you, and to me—to me, Jack, who have never before seen this land of Morbihan."
After a while she said, "And the ocean—oh, how I long to see it! Is it near us, Jack?"
"The river runs into it twenty kilometres below. We feel the tide at Quimperlé." I did not add, "Baedeker,"
"I wonder," I said presently, "what are the feelings of a little American who sees this country—the real country—for the first time?"
"I suppose you mean me," she said. "I don't know—I don't think I understand it yet, but I know I shall love it, and never want to go back."
"Perhaps we never shall," I said. "The magic second may stretch into years that end at last as all ends."
Then our hands met in that sudden nervous clasp which seemed to help and steady us when we were thinking of the real world, so long, so long forgotten.
IX.
I was awakened next morning by a spongeful of cold water in the face, which I hate. I started up to wreak vengeance upon Sweetheart, but she fled to the toilet room and locked herself in. From this retreat she taunted me until further sleep was out of the question, and I
