piness which nothing could disturb. Evidently no weight was pressing upon her heart.
"Shall I tell you?" she said.
"Yes."
"You are in love."
He kissed her hand.
"And you?" he asked. "Are you in love?"
"In love?" she repeated. "I do not like the term for myself. I like you: that is better."
"'I like you'?" he re-echoed. "But a mother or a father or a nurse or even a dog may be liked: the phrase may be used as a garment, even as can, can"
"Even as can an old dressing-gown," she suggested with a smile. Presently she added—
"Whether I am actually in love with you or not I hardly know. Perhaps it is a stage that has not yet arrived. All I know is that I have never liked father or mother or nurse or dog as I like you. I feel lost without you. To be parted from you for a short while makes me sorry; to be parted from you for a long while makes me sad; and, were you to die, I should wear mourning for the rest of my life, and never again be
