"It's beautiful because you are here," said I.
"It will never be again the room it used to be—because you have been here."
She knelt up in bed, completely bathed in pale blue.
"But," said she, "I will often be here now—often."
I lay still and looked at her.
I saw everything as in a gentle, clear sleep—relaxed, resolved, calm and very happy.
"How beautiful you are like that, Pat.
Much more beautiful than in any clothes."
She smiled and bent down to me.
"You must love me, Robby. Very much. I need lots of love.
I don't know what I should do without love."
Her eyes held me.
Her face was close above me. It was excited, completely frank, full of a passionate strength.
"You must hold me," she whispered, "I need someone to hold me. I shall fall otherwise. I am afraid."
"You don't look afraid," I replied.
"I am though. I only pretend not to be. I am often afraid."
"I will hold you, Pat," said I, still in that unreal waking dream, that hovering clear sleep. "I will hold you right enough, Pat.
You will be surprised."
She took my face in her hands.
"Really?"
I nodded.
Her shoulders shone green as in deep water.
With a stifled cry she threw herself upon me, a wave, a shining, breathing soft wave that rose and extinguished everything.
She slept in my arms.
I wakened often and looked at her.
I thought the night could never come to an end.
We were drifting somewhere the other side of time.
It had all come so quickly, I could not realize it.
I knew that for a man I could be quite a good comrade; but I could not imagine why a woman should love me.
I thought it would probably be only this night, and believed that with waking it would all be over.
The darkness turned to grey.
I lay quite still.
My arm under Pat's head was asleep, I could not feel it any longer.
But I did not stir. Only as she turned over and pressed herself against the pillow was I able to remove it.
I got up very softly, cleaned my teeth noiselessly and shaved.
I took also some eau de cologne and rubbed it on my hair and shoulders.
It was queer, so soundless in the grey room, with such thoughts, and outside the dark silhouettes of the trees.
As I turned I saw that Pat had opened her eyes and was watching me.
I stopped.
"Come," said she.
I went to her and sat down on the bed.
"Is it all still true?" said I.
"Why do you ask?" said she.
"I don't know.
Because it is morning, perhaps."
It grew lighter.
"Now you must give me my things," said she.
I took up the thin silk garments from the floor.
They were so light and so little.
I held them in my hand. Even this much makes all the difference, thought I.