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           Atanyrate,Amorywatchedthenightthatshouldhavebeentheconsummationofromanceglidebywithgreatmothsoverheadandtheheavyfragranceofroadsidegardens,butwithoutthosebrokenwords,thoselittlesighs....

           Afterwardtheysupperedongingeraleanddevil’sfoodinthepantry,andAmoryannouncedadecision.

           "I’mleavingearlyinthemorning."

           "Why?"

           "Whynot?"hecountered.

           "There’snoneed."

           "However,I’mgoing."

           "Well,ifyouinsistonbeingridiculous—"

           "Oh,don’tputitthatway,"heobjected.

           "—justbecauseIwon’tletyoukissme.Doyouthink—"

           "Now,Isabelle,"heinterrupted,"youknowit’snotthat—evensupposeitis.We’vereachedthestagewhereweeitheroughttokiss—or—or—nothing.Itisn’tasifyouwererefusingonmoralgrounds."

           Shehesitated.

           "Ireallydon’tknowwhattothinkaboutyou,"shebegan,inafeeble,perverseattemptatconciliation."You’resofunny."

           "How?"

           "Well,Ithoughtyouhadalotofself-confidenceandallthat;rememberyoutoldmetheotherdaythatyoucoulddoanythingyouwanted,orgetanythingyouwanted?"

           Amoryflushed.Hehadtoldheralotofthings.

           "Yes."

           "Well,youdidn’tseemtofeelsoself-confidentto-night.Maybeyou’rejustplainconceited."

           "No,I’mnot,"hehesitated.