"Phœbe!"
"Fred!" Her voice was like the whisper of a rose, filling space with sweet music.
"You will be my wife, Phœbe?"
"Yes."
"Say you love me!"
"I love you!"
Thereafter there was silence awhile, and as Phœbe lay enfolded in her lover's arms, a high resolve entered his soul to be worthy of the priceless blessing of her love. And she? Her soul was also stirred by a prayer that she might be able to make herself worthy of him—her hero, her life!
"We must go in now, Fred. They will think it so strange!"
"I am not so sure," he said, and kept her still in his embrace.
"Why are you not so sure, Fred? Indeed, indeed they will!"