A paradise surely must it be, this country to the south where March is no longer winter and in April the leaves are green! At midwinter one takes to the road without snowshoes, unclad in furs, beyond sight of the cruel forest.
And the cities ...

the pavements ...
Questions framed themselves upon her lips.

She would know if lofty houses and shops stood unbrokenly on both sides of the streets, as she had been told; if the electric cars ran all the year round; if the living was very dear ...

And the answers to her questions would have satisfied but a little of this eager curiosity, would scarcely have disturbed the enchanting vagueness of her illusion.
She was silent, however, dreading to speak any word that might seem like the foreshadowing of a promise.

Though Lorenzo gazed at her long as they walked together across the snow, he was able to guess nothing of what was passing in her heart.
"You will not have me, Maria?
You have no liking for me, or is it, perhaps, that you cannot make up your mind ?" As still she gave no reply he clung to this idea, fearing that she might hastily refuse him.
"No need whatever that you should say 'Yes' at once.