For a time they sat in perfect silence.

Her head was thrown back against a pillar round which red roses clustered and clung, and the light of the stars fell full upon her face; the dark eyes were full of radiance.
"How beautiful it is, Norman," she said, suddenly.

"What music has ever equaled the whispers of the night-wind?
It seems a sad pity after all that we are obliged to lead such conventional lives, and spend the greater part of them in warm, close rooms." "You have a great love for out-of-door freedom," he remarked, laughingly.
"Yes, I love the fresh air.

I think if any one asked me what I loved best on earth, I should say wind.

I love it in all its moods--rough, caressing, tender, impetuous, calm, stormy.