"You said something like that once before—about being afraid. Are you afraid of life?"
"Not a bit. I'm just afraid of my own feelings."
To hear that she was afraid made Finch afraid, too. A shiver of sympathy, ecstatic yet terrified, ran through him. There seemed a menace in the bitter nip of the night air, in the large glittering stars. His arm relaxed and dropped to his side. He took off his hat and passed his hand over his hair, looking down at her pathetically.
"It's frightful to be afraid," he said. "I'm afraid of myself, too, often. And of my feelings. It takes the strength right out of me."
She gave him a scornful little smile.
"I don't think I understand your kind of fear."
"I think I understand the difference," he said. "I think yours is a hot fear, and mine is a cold. Yours makes you want to fly away and mine paralyzes me." His eyes sought hers, eager for understanding.
She was searching for her key in a brilliant-studded handbag. He saw the shadow of her lashes on her cheek.
"If only you would let me kiss you," he breathed, "I think we could understand each other."
"Too well," she answered, with a catch in her voice. She fumbled with the key against the lock.
He took it gently from her and opened the door.
The next morning he and Leigh left early for Jalna. Finch would have liked to linger in the hope that he might have a few minutes alone with Ada, but Leigh was impatient to be off. Having it in his mind to meet Eden and hear him read his poetry, he could tolerate no delay in reaching the appointed spot, even though Finch declared that Eden would scarcely be there so early. Leigh left his car near the gate, and, descending into the ravine, they made straight for the rustic bridge across the stream. Eden was not there. Still, Leigh's desire for haste was gratified. He perched on the railing of the bridge and extolled now the beauty of the sky, now that of his own reflection in the pool below.
"If I were as charming a fellow," he said, "in my actual person as I am in that shadowy reflection, I'd have
