Dion laid the stone down. He thought hard for a moment.
“Without any hope at all of a change back to happiness—no, actually I never have.”
“Ah, then you’ve never had to brace up and see if you could find a strong voice to utter your ‘farewell’!”
She spoke with firmness, a firmness that rang like true metal struck with a hammer and giving back sincerity.
“That sounds tremendously Doric,” he said.
His lips were smiling, but there was an almost surprised expression in his eyes.
“Dion, do you know you’re intuitive to-day?”
“Ah, your training—your training!”
“Didn’t you say we should have to be Doric ourselves if——?”
“Come, Rosamund, it’s time for the Parthenon.”