"It was a prophecy, perhaps, that you should meet me: and you did."
"It was a prophecy perhaps, that our lives were to mingle, and they may."
"Nothing is impossible," she answered quietly.
She did not say this consciously. It was an answer obviously made without the slightest reference to its implication.
"How beautiful these grounds of yours look under the blue sky," she continued gaily. "I wish you had not made me see them. They will spoil me for my narrow garden."
"Why will you not use them as your own? Those gates were made for communication. You can always be alone by naming the hours it may suit you to come. I can dismiss the gardeners for that time, and hide myself in my study."
"Your offer is very polite, but I will not accept it. I shouldn't care to wander about a place that doesn't belong to me; for there is little real satisfaction in admiring the possessions of others. Besides, my fingers would itch to be at the flowers. I should be picking the choicest. That is my way."
"You would be welcome to pick them all."
"Yet were I to come I would not wish you to hide yourself. Your company does me good. I have felt more cheerful since I knew you."