Was it ?" "The Greeks I told you of, and whose life was music, thought it was a god." "Ah, but you say the Greeks made Love a god.

Were they wicked for it ?" "Our own God above is Love," said Ernest, seriously, "as our own poets have said and sung.

But it is a love of another nature--divine, not human.

Come, we will go within, the air grows cold for you." They entered, his arm round her waist.

The room smiled upon them its quiet welcome; and Alice, whose heart had not half vented its fulness, sat down to the instrument still to "talk love" in her own way.
But it was Saturday evening.