"I think that you are an angel," he cried fervently.
"Dear, I loved you from the moment I first saw you in that cruel Court."
"And I loved you," she whispered. "I thought that it was merely friendship, until we met again, and then—then, I knew!" She gave a delighted little crow of laughter, which stirred the young man's heart to its depths. Impulsively he dropped on his knees, and kissed her hands alternately, scarcely able to speak.
"I am not worthy of you," he muttered.
"Dear." She stooped, and raised him to her breast. "Let me find out your imperfections by myself."
"I have many," he said humbly.
"And I love you for them. I marry a man in the world of men, and not an archangel; in the same way as you take a faulty woman, and not a spirit of light. But we are spirits, although clothed in coats of skin," she ended gently, "and when the hour strikes we shall know each other."
"Do we not know each other now?"
"No. That is, Mona Chent knows George Prelice."
The young man jumped gaily to his feet. "Enough for the day is the delight therefore," he cried. "I am quite content to know Mona Chent until she becomes Mona Prelice. When will you marry me?"