“Well, go on.”
“Well, just how easy it is to be happy. How little it really takes to make happiness,” she answered truthfully.
“Just you and me,” he agreed.
They went on again walking slowly.
“I never loved a girl before,” he informed her, as if they had been discussing this miracle of love in open speech for hours.
She believed him. We always do believe them when they tell us this, because we need so much to keep this happiness which is founded upon the shifting sands of lovers.
“And you, my beautiful one, you do love me?” he asked, suddenly halting and swinging her in front of him.
She laid her hand upon her breast, looked at him through a mist of tears. “Is this love?” she asked, as if her hand covered leaves and blossoms and singing birds.
“Of course it is,” cried her high priest, clasping her and kissing her.
“Are you sure?” she gasped, with another wide look of joyful fear.