But in our hearts we all know better.

Which of us has not lived through the magic hours of a magic day?
Which of us does not know that land, unmapped, unnamed, a land whose sun is brighter, whose grass is greener, whose sky is bluer, and whose every road runs into a golden mist?
Magic land it must be, for much seeking cannot find it.

No one, not the wisest nor the best, may enter it at will; but for every one at some time the unseen gate swings open, birds sing, flowers bloom, the glory and the dream descend! Poor indeed, unutterably poor and cheated of his heritage is he who has not passed that way.
They were not in love, of course.

They were too happy for that.

Love is the greatest thing in the world, but it is seldom quite happy.