She had taken off her hat and sat with her hands clasped, looking up into the mazy green tracery and the bits of rose color shining through.
"It is like us," she said with a little motion of her hand.
"Like you," he said soberly, sitting beside her. "I'm not a rose!"
"No!" She laughed out. "But it is like us—it's just happiness—nothing to it!" She crushed it in her hand.
And he stared at her.
"No one takes us seriously," she said. "They just think how young we are——"
"And how beautiful you are!"
"They know it won't last." She was looking at it musingly. "And they think we don't know——"
"It will last!" said the boy vehemently.