XLIV
\"Whatisit，Jeff？\"askedCynthia，thenextnight，astheystartedouttogetheraftersupper，andbegantostrolldownthehilltowardherfather’shouse。Itlaylookingverylittleandlowinthenookatthefootofthelane，onthevergeofthewoodsthatdarkenedawaytothenorthwardfromit，undertheglassynightsky，litwiththespareyoungmoon。Thepeepingofthefrogsinthemarshyplacesfilledtheair；thehoarsevoiceofthebrookmadeitselfheardatintervalsthroughthem。
\"It’snotsowarmhere，quite，asitisinBoston，\"hereturned。\"Areyouwrappedupenough？Thisairhasanedgetoit。\"
\"I’mallright，\"saidthegirl。\"Whatisit？\"
\"Youthinkthere’ssomething？Youdon’tbelieveI’vecomeupforrestoverSunday？Iguessmotherherselfdidn’t，andIcouldseeyourfatherfollowingupmylittleliesasifhewa’n’tgoingtoletoneescapehim。