Why, it's charming.

And you have everything else--young, strong, graceful, clear." "What d'you mean by that ?" "Clear?
Fresh and colourful like the sunset over the desert.

Do you understand ?" Her eyes went down to consider.
"I s'pose I do." "With a touch of awe in it, because the silence and the night are coming, and the stars walk down, one by one--one by one.

And the wind is low, soft, musical, whispering, as you do now--What if this were not a game of suppose, Sally ?" She wrenched herself suddenly away, rising.
"I'm tired of supposing!" she cried.
"Then we'll call it all real.

What of that ?" That colour was unmistakably high now; it ran down from her cheeks and even stained the pure white of the throat where the flap of the shirt was open.