"Oh,"—Virginia's smile was playing like a light over his face—"think of the days when her eyes were like stars and her ears like shells and her hair was curling all over the place."
"Virginia," his voice was tender, "where you are there are no more palms, wigs turn into hair, rouge into blushes——"
"Matthew," she said, "you are a romantic and I am the only person in the world who knows it."
"You are the only person in the world with whom I am in love."
"For the moment."
"How practical you are!" he teased, "full of forethought and arrière pensées. Isn't the moment the capture of the divine?"
She sighed a little—wise with the wisdom of frustrated dreams, and she thought how happy he was—happy with the happiness of iridescent, ever-changing whimsies.
"Virginia, does that young man love you?"
"Which one?"
"The one in spectacles."