LOVE AND LOSS All unaware that they had been seen and by no friendly eyes, Godfrey and Isobel remained embracing each other for quite a long while.

At length she wrenched herself away and, sinking on to a chancel bench, motioned to him to seat himself beside her.
"Let us talk," she said in a new voice, a strange voice that was low and rich, such as he had never heard her use, "let us talk, my dear." "What of ?" he asked almost in a whisper as he took his place, and her hand, which he held against his beating heart.

"My soul has been talking to yours for the last five minutes, or is it five seconds or five years?
It does not seem to have anything more to say." "Yet I think there is plenty to be said, Godfrey.

Do you know that while we were kissing each other there some very queer ideas got hold of me, not only of the sort which might be expected in our case?
You remember that Plantagenet lady who lies buried beneath where we were standing, she whose dress I once copied to wear at the ball when I came out." "Don't speak of that," he interrupted, "for then you were kissing someone else." "It is not true.

I never kissed anyone else in that way, and I do not think I ever shall.