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So they start, in a lazy, happy-go-lucky fashion, for their walk, conversing as they go, of themselves principally as all true lovers will. Mona looks at him. How oddly he has expressed himself! "You won't," he said, instead of "you wouldn't." Does he then deem it possible she will ever be able to cross to that land that calls him son? She sighs, and, looking down at her little lean sinewy hands, clasps and unclasps them nervously. "Oh, yes, thank you," says Mona, who is both surprised and carried away by the other's unexpected eloquence..
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A passionate admiration for her beauty and purity fills his breast: he could have fallen at her feet and cried aloud to her to take pity upon him, to let some loving thought for him—even him too—enter and find fruitful soil within her heart. "I need no queen when I have got a king," says the girl, with ready wit and great tenderness. "Well, it always is on her head," says Mr. Rodney, at which ridiculous joke they both laugh as gayly as though it were a bon-mot of the first water. That "life is thorny, and youth is vain" has not as yet occurred to either of these two. Nay, more, were you even to name this thought to them, they would rank it as flat blasphemy, and you a false prophet—love and laughter being, up to this, the burden of their song. It was all terrible,—this young man coming and the thought that, no matter how they might try to disbelieve in his story, still it might be true..
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