'She hain't my choice.'
The girl stood silent, and watched the two men.
'There now!' said Albert. 'Think o' that! If it was _me_ now--' But he
was uncomfortable. 'Well, Miss Stokes, have me,' he added.
Miss Stokes stood quite still, neither moved nor spoke. And so the three
remained for some time at the lane end. At last Joe began kicking the
ground--then he suddenly lifted his face. At that moment Miss Stokes was
at his side. She put her arm delicately round his waist.
'Seems I'm the one extra, don't you think?' Albert inquired of the high
bland moon.
Joe had dropped his head and did not answer. Miss Stokes stood with her
arm lightly round his waist. Albert bowed, saluted, and bade good-night.
He walked away, leaving the two standing.
Miss Stokes put a light pressure on Joe's waist, and drew him down the
road. They walked in silence. The night was full of scent--wild cherry,
the first bluebells. Still they walked in silence. A nightingale was
singing. They approached nearer and nearer, till they stood close by his
dark bush. The powerful notes sounded from the cover, almost like flashes
of light--then the interval of silence--then the moaning notes, almost
like a dog faintly howling, followed by the long, rich trill, and
flashing notes. Then a short silence again.
Miss Stokes turned at last to Joe. She looked up at him, and in the
moonlight he saw her faintly smiling.
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