Something of the gravity had gone from her face.

She was like a girl, suddenly young with new thoughts.
"You know what I am going to say to you ?" "Do not say it yet, please," she begged.

"Somehow it seems to me that the time has not come, though the thought of what may be in your heart is wonderful.

I want to dream about it first," she went on.

"I want to think." He laughed, a strange sound almost to his own ears, for Nigel, since his uncle's death, had tasted the very depths of depression.
"I obey," he agreed.