"Don't you remember?—about everybody being different."
"Different? Yes."
"Oh, that made me so happy." She bent towards him, beaming again. "I so love thinking that none of the dull old rules hold for me—that I'm the first one of this sort. What did for other people won't do for me—what happened to them needn't make me afraid. Oh, it's splendid to think it's all new and different because of me!"
She pressed her hands together, and her face, yes, it was like a lamp in the gathering gloom.
"I wonder what you'll do with your life?" said the man, with something very tender in the low voice.
"Do with it? I shall love it so, it will have to be good to me. I shall sing, and I shall travel—go everywhere, do everything. I mustn't miss a single thing—oh, dear no! not a single, single thing." Silence a moment, and then, "There's just one thought troubles me," she said.
"Ah yes, there's always one—when there aren't more."
"Less time than a silly old elephant's got—and here my father's had to put off starting till the spring. I hope I shall be able to wait all that time for him; but sometimes I feel as if I shouldn't."
"Ah, but your promise to me!"