“Yes, he’s the one. He’s quite a well-known lawyer, and they say I’m fortunate to have him.”
“I see,” said Thyrsis. “I’ll have to look into it some day. You know you have to endow me with all your worldly goods!”
They went on down the avenue, and came to a Jewish temple with a gilded dome. “I wonder how that would do,” said Corydon.
“I don’t think it would do at all,” said Thyrsis. “We’d surely have to believe something there.”
So they went on again. And on a corner, as they stopped to look about them, a strange mood came suddenly to Thyrsis. It was as if a veil was rent before him—as if a bolt of lightning had flashed. What was he going to do? He was going to bind himself in marriage! He was going to be trapped—he, the wild thing, the young stag of the forest!
“What is it?” asked Corydon, seeing him standing motionless.
“I—I was just thinking,” he said.
“What?”
“I was afraid, Corydon, I wondered if we were sure—if we realized—”
“If we realized!” she cried.