"Not hard," said she, "if I see the right one—and—and—he loves me also."
I had kept myself well in hand, for I was full of doubts that day; but the clever girl came near taking me, horse, foot, and guns, that moment. She spoke so charmingly, she looked so winning, and then, was it not easy to ask if I were the lucky one? She knew I loved her, I knew that she had loved me, and I might as well confess. But no; I was not ready.
"You must be stern with the others; you must not let them tell you," I went on.
"Ciel!" said she, laughing, "one might as well go to a nunnery. May not a girl enjoy her beauty? It is sweet to her."
"But do not make it bitter for the poor men. Dieu! I am one of them, and know their sorrows."
"And you—you have been in love?"
"Desperately," I answered, clinging by the finger-tips. Somehow we kept drifting into fateful moments when a word even might have changed all that has been—our life way, the skies above us, the friends we have known, our loves, our very souls.
