"I don't know.... I've never been tested."
"I know."
"Thanks. But you shouldn't get into the habit of idealising people. You'll end as a cynic if you do."
Her tone was pleasantly mocking.
Loring said quietly:
"I've never idealised but one person in my life."
"Well ... perhaps that's being a little too cautious."
"Caution has nothing to do with it. Such things come or they don't come."
"Yes ... perhaps they do. Ah! Wild grapes! What beauties!"
She stood gazing up at the little clusters of purple-black fox-grapes that hung against the arch of yellow leaves overhead. The vine had swung itself in great loops about a dogwood tree. The grapes were like a delicate design of wrought iron work against the gilded background of autumn leaves. But they hung high—out of reach. Loring caught at them with the handle of his riding-crop. Some of the ripe, purplish beads pattered about them.