It was a beautiful white dove which, though lifeless, had retained much of its grace and softness. In its beak was a dainty little card upon which was inscribed in large characters: "Love one another."
"Do you like it?" he asked after we had examined it silently for a moment.
"The idea is certainly original," I answered evasively.
"Yes, but do you like it?" he repeated
"Which?" I asked, "the bird, or the idea altogether?"
"The idea altogether."
"Oh! ye-e-s," I drawled as indifferently as I possibly could. "It is a very chaste conception on the whole—but—"
"But what?"
"Oh! there is not much in it after all."
"Miss Hampden! you astonish me! Not much in loving one another, especially with such an exalted, enduring love as that which the dove symbolises."