"I was almost bewildered, in the first place,--with beauty--and then--"
"Do you like the rose garden?"
"Like it!--I cannot speak of it!"
"I don't want you to speak of it," said he smiling at her. "What followed upon liking it, Elfie?"
"I was thinking," said Fleda, looking resolutely away from him,--"in the midst of all this,--that it is not these things which make people happy."
"There is no question of that," he replied. "I have realized it thoroughly for a few months past."
"No, but seriously, I mean," said Fleda pleadingly.
"And seriously you are quite right, dear Elfie. What then?"
"I was thinking," said Fieda, speaking with some difficulty, "of Hugh's grave,--and of the comparative value of things; and afraid, I believe,--especially--here--"
"Of making a wrong estimate?"