THE HILL OF DREAMS
made a halo shine about the hill. He was now quite close to the white appearance, and saw that it was only a woman walking swiftly down the lane; the floating movement was an effect due to the sombre air and the moon's glamour. At the gate, where he had spent so many hours gazing at the fort, they walked foot to foot, and he saw it was Annie Morgan.
'Good evening, Master Lucian,' said the girl, 'it's very dark, sir, indeed.'
'Good evening, Annie,' he answered, calling her by her name for the first time, and he saw that she smiled with pleasure. 'You are out late, aren't you?'
'Yes, sir; but I've been taking a bit of supper to old Mrs. Gibbon. She's been very poorly the last few days, and there's nobody to do anything for her.'
Then there were really people who helped one another; kindness and pity were not mere myths, fictions of 'society,' as useful as Doe and Roe, and as non-existent. The thought struck Lucian with a shock; the evening's passion and delirium, the wild walk and physical fatigue had almost shattered him in body and mind. He was 'degenerate,' decadent, and the rough rains and
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