XVI
HALF MOON, looking pallid and decrepit like an old roué, was creeping into the sky as they I started homeward. For a ways there was little said. Gordon was still fighting the strange mood that had descended upon him, and Peggy seemed tired and listless. The car ran silently through the sea-scented night, past sleeping farms and dimly lighted hamlets, flooding its way with a far-reaching path of light that paled the weak attempt of the old moon. Presently the fresh, tingling air worked its spell on them both. Peggy roused herself with a sigh.
"It's like being in a sort of half dream," she said softly. "Everything just flows past without sound or motion. We must have come a long way from home."
"About thirty-eight miles," he answered.
Presently: "Don't you want to smoke?" she
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