a Maori settlement, where they had come to hear the native band that played on fine nights. They had been still for over an hour listening to it. A moon waxing to the full crept up over tree tops and now shone down upon them.
They had been out on the river only at night so far, not only because it was pleasanter, but because Dane was very anxious not to be seen, and there was more traffic than he had expected. But it had been no hardship to stay in the cool little gully near the tents by day, especially for Valerie, who could hardly stay awake long enough to eat. She had slumped indeed quite badly, and Dane had seen that she must have emotional as well as physical rest, and putting aside his own temporary desires to climb hills or make love to her he had set himself to get her well again.
As she had to be three days in the neighbourhood before the ceremony could be performed, Dane was still teasing her about it. He looked up at her now with a whimsical smile, and reaching up for her hand drew it down against his cheek.
“Need any moral support for to-morrow?” he asked lightly.
Her eyes gleamed down at him. “I wasn’t thinking about it,” she retorted.
“What then?”
“I was just wondering why people can’t keep themselves at a pitch of happiness. Why we can’t be like this always, what it is that comes on and changes things. It seems to me that if you and I always had a boat and the moon and a fine night we ought always to feel as happy as we are now.”
“But, you blessed idiot, we don’t always have the boat and the moon and the fine night.”
