"
Thereupon the girl asked a question which seemed to argue some sharpening
of intelligence within her.
"An' when I spoke that, what did you say, Mister Jan?"
"I didn't say anything at all. I just took that sweet Joan-of-dreams into
my arms and kissed her."
He was looking listlessly out over the sea as he spoke, and Joan felt
thankful his eyes were turned away from her, for this wonderful dream
incident made her grow hot all over. He seemed to divine by her silence
that his answer to her question had not added to her happiness.
"I shouldn't have told you that, Joan, only you asked me. You see, in
dreams, we are real in some senses, though unreal in others. In dreams the
savage part of us comes to the top and Nature can whisper to us. She
chooses night to do so and often speaks to men in visions, because by day
the voice of the world is in their ears and they have no attention for any
other. It was strange, too, that I should fancy such a thing--should
imagine I was kissing you--because I never kissed a woman in my life."
But from her point of view this falsehood was not so alluring as he meant
to make it sound.
"'Twould be wrong to kiss any maiden, I reckon, onless you was tokened to
her or she were your awn sister."
"But, as we look at life, we're all brothers and sisters, Joan--with Nature
for our mother. We agreed about that long ago."
He turned to his easel, and she went and stood where her feet had already
made a brown mark on the grass.
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