"Why?"

"Because I would probably have said some silly things and you would have been bored. And then we wouldn't be here now."

"I'm glad we are."

He leaned forward suddenly and very calmly and tenderly kissed me. There was an uncomfortable lump in my throat as I said,

"Thank you, Steve. That was a very nice thing to do."

Suddenly he was angry.

"I didn't do it to be nice! I did it because I wanted to! And because I thought you wanted me to!"

"Of course I wanted you to. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound patronizing." If only I could tell him what his kiss really meant to me. But I was afraid he would not understand now. Perhaps later.

"Steve, there's so little time now. I'm afraid we have just this one night. I have to leave early tomorrow morning. But I want you to promise me something." "What is it?"

"When you come to New York at the end of the season, I want to see you. Perhaps then we can talk a little more freely. There are too many memories for me here. I'm sorry if I sound terribly romantic but that's the truth."

"Of course. I understand. I think you'd better take me home now. It's getting late and you have to get up early tomorrow."

When we stopped in front of his cottage he seemed hesitant to say goodnight. "I'm very glad you introduced yourself tonight. Of course, if you hadn't I would have arranged an introduction."

"It didn't seem like an introduction to me. Just picking up where we had left off." "Yes, I feel that too now. Will you write me, Steve?"

"You can count on it."

"And I'll see you in New York?"

"You'll see me, as often as you like."

"I won't say good-bye then, just goodnight."

"Goodnight."

We shook hands again and then he turned and walked away. Just before he went in, I called to him. He turned and came back to the car. I was not sure why I had called him. It just seemed to happen.

"Yes, what is it? Forget something?"

I was confused. Why had I called him back?

"Just wanted to make sure you had my correct address."

"Yes, I have it. Goodnight again."

He stood waiting this time until I started the motor and drove off. I could still see him in the rear-view mirror, watching me drive away.

It was going to be another hot day and I dreaded the long drive back to the city. The ferry was full of loud and noisy tourists busily throwing scraps of food into the water. The shrill cries of the gulls as they dipped and swerved sounded to me like shrieks of derisive laughter. I left the rail and went to my car and sat there, trying to think. Why had I come here? Why had I obeyed this irresistable impulse to return? It had all been a terrible mistake. You can't revive the past. It's better to let sleeping dogs lie. But even as these arguments entered my mind, I quickly shut them out again. Yes, time had passed and with its passing, old wounds had healed. I was sure of that now. And I was also sure that I would be waiting for that visit in the Fall . . . at the end of the season.

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