When he had made at least three complete circles, and jumped the stream six times, Giles gravely walked on, and Valentine presently followed, wiping his forehead.
"Nobody could have expressed my own sentiments in more charming English," he exclaimed; "I never heard such grammar in my life; what a brick you are, St.George!" Giles had great faith in his theory that absence always cured love, also in his belief that his was cured and half forgotten.

At that moment he experienced a sharp pang, however, that was not very like forgetfulness, but which Valentine converted almost into self-scorn when he said-- "You know, Giles, she always did show the most undisguised liking for me from our first meeting; and then look how constant she has been, and what beautiful letters she writes, always trying, too, to improve me.

Of course I cannot even pretend to think she would not have engaged herself to me months ago if I might have asked her." "All true, perfectly true," he thought to himself; "he loves her and she loves him, and I believe if she had never met with Valentine, she would still never have married me.

What a fool I am!" "Why wouldn't you take this view of things yesterday, when I tried to make you ?" asked Valentine.
"I was not ready for it," answered Giles, "or it was not ready for me." Thereupon they passed through a wicket-gate into a kind of glen or wilderness, at the end of John Mortimer's garden, and beyond the stream where his little girls acted Nausicaa and his little boys had preserves of minute fishes, ingeniously fenced in with sticks and fine netting.
"There's Grand," exclaimed Valentine, "they've brought him out to look at their water-snails.

What a venerable old boy he is! he looks quite holy, doesn't he ?" "Hold your tongue," said Brandon, "they'll hear you.