All the dull, empty hours were filled.

Our music, our reading, our companionship, our long walks and talks, our letters to each other--all those pleasures which you showed me were at once so harmless and so delightful.

And as if that were not enough--came love.

Such love as I had only dreamed of--such understanding of each other's every thought and word, as I did not know was possible between man and woman--or at least"-- she corrected herself sadly--"between any man and a woman--of my age." "You talk of your age," said John, smiling tenderly, "as though it were a crime." "It is not a crime, but it is a tragedy," said Lady Mary.

"Age is a tragedy to every woman who wants to be happy." "No more, surely, than to every man who loves his work, and sees it slipping from his grasp," said John, slowly.