"Do you know what you remind me of when you stand that way?" I asked.
"No," She looked away now, laughing lightly—though it was more subtly than suddenly done. "What?"
"Of a fairy that's flown from a butterfly moon, just alighting at my threshold and asking to come in."
"Wouldn't a fairy be unseemly forward to come to a young man's threshold and ask admittance?"
"Not admittance, but admission—to my dreams, where nothing is real but you and beauty."
"Dreams are for the old, the young shall see visions!—isn't there a quotation like that?" she asked, smiling.
"You're not playing fair," I laughed—for I was afraid not to laugh, wanting desperately to say that I was seeing the vision now that would be my dream forever!
"I'll play fair if I know the rules," she also laughed. "You haven't told them to me!"
"We'll make them up as we go along!"
"But what are we going to play?"