“Either way,” she answered.
“Why did n't you let them do it?
“Which way?”
“Either way,” he replied.
“Would you rather have had the four either way, than me?” she questioned, with pretty vanity.
“Much rather.” His voice was stern.
“Why?” She was stung by the answer.
The glen was all a dreamy gray-green ruggedness of shelving rock with mossy crevices and ferny nooks. The sunlight filtering through the young leaves fell about them in a shadow-flecked softness. There was a crooning song of some bird on its nest, the murmur of waters rippling down the stony shallows, and a beautiful girl in a dainty pink dress with her fingers just touching her fluffy masses of hair.
“Why?”
With the question Elinor looked up and saw why. Saw in Victor Burleigh's golden-brown eyes a look she had never read in eyes before; saw the whole face, the rugged, manly face lighted with a man's overmastering love. And the joy of it thrilled her soul.