“The Gardens of Shiraz, where Omar Khayyam sang,” said the happy young lover, and quoted the well known lines softly:—
“Here with a loaf of bread, beneath the bough,
A flask of wine: a book of verse—and Thou,
Beside me singing in the wilderness,
And wilderness is Paradise enow.”
“Oh, we don’t want the bread and wine,” laughed Marie indolently, as they took their way to the dell along a path riotous with blossom.
“Bread and cheese then.”
“You have left out the best thing, dear.”
“Kisses, eh? Well then.” Alan stopped, took her into his strong arms and kissed her twice, thrice, and again on her rose-leaf lips.
“I wish you’d behave yourself,” said Marie sedately, “as to bread and cheese we have something better than that now.”