Yes." "Why did we not make that covenant before?
Life is not so long, nor happiness so common, that we can afford to trifle away two years of it.
I wish you had told me when I last came here of that old photograph of mine in your album." "But this is not a new covenant.

It is only an old one mended.

We were always good friends until you quarrelled and ran away." "That was not my fault, Marian." "Then it must have been mine.

However, it does not matter now." "You are right.

Prometheus is unbound now; and his despair is only a memory sanctifying his present happiness.