She seemed a fairy romantic thing thus gliding in her yellow silk gown through the darkening pines.
And her face was the face of the image, feature for feature.

There was on it too the same light, the same smile.
"Antony," she called, as they drew nearer to each other, "where in the wide world have you been?
Dinner has been waiting for half-an-hour." "Dinner!" he said, laughing, and kissing her kindly.

"Fancy! the High Muses have made me half-an-hour late for dinner.

Beauty has made me forget my dinner.

Disgraceful!" "I don't mind your forgetting dinner, Antony--but you might have remembered me." "Do you think I could remember Beauty and forget you?
Yes! you _are_ beautiful to-night, Silen--Beatrice.