"Now, really, Betty——"
"Quite true, George."
"And you ran away."
"And you," she said with a little laugh, "didn't follow."
"Maybe I was afraid of the dragons in the castle. If I'd followed——?"
"We'd have made the dragons angels."
Beneath their jesting he was aware of pain in his heart, in her eyes; a perception of lost chances, chances that never could have been captured. One couldn't have everything. She had Lambert. He had nothing. But he might have had Betty.
He stooped and pressed his lips to her forehead.
"That's as near as I shall ever come," he thought, sorrowfully, wondering, against his will, if it were true.
"It's to wish you and Lambert happiness," he said aloud.