“He is just like John,” said Stellamaris.
“Something,” said Herold, leading her out into the fresh air and sunshine.
“That fearless, royal look,” said Stella—“don't you think so?”
Before replying, he took her to a shady bench where they both sat down.
“John's the finest and the best and the bravest fellow in the world,” said he, loyally.
Her eyes shone. She put out her gloved little hand in her familiar, caressing way and pressed his gently. Her maidenhood did not glow at the sisterly touch.
“I 'm so happy, my Great High Favourite, dear,” she said.
“Why? Why now more than usual?” He smiled wistfully.
The sky was blue, and the trees were heavy with leafage, and she had just seen the king of beasts in his most kingly aspect, and he reminded her of the man she loved, and her heart was young and innocent. Herold once more became her chosen companion in the Land That Never Was. She dropped her voice to a whisper, for staring people strolled along the path ten yards away. Besides, there are times when the sound of one's own voice is embarrassing.
“You love John, don't you, dear? You love him dearly, dearly, dearly, as he deserves to be loved?”