“It is a lovely night!” said Goneril.
“And a lovely place.”
“Yes.”
Then a bird sang.
“You have been here just eight weeks,” said the signorino.
“I have been very happy.”
He did not speak for a minute or two, and then he said:
“Would you like to live here always?”
“Ah, yes! but that is impossible.”
He took her hand and turned her gently, so that her face was in the light.