The July of that year was very warm with peculiarly still days, and Halcyone and her master, Cheiron, spent most of their time during their hours of study, under the apple tree.

They had got to a stage of complete understanding, and seemed to have fitted into each other's lives as though they had always been together.
Mr.Carlyon watched his little pupil from under the shadow of his penthouse brows with the deep speculative interest she had aroused in him from the first.

He had theories upon several subjects, which she seemed to be going to show the result of in practice--and in his kindly cynic's heart she was now enshrined in a special niche.
For Halcyone he was "Cheiron," her master, who had the enchanting quality of being able to see the other side of her head.

Every idea of her soul seemed to be developing under this touch of sympathy and understanding.

Her heterogeneous knowledge culled from the teachings of her many changing governesses, seemed to regulate itself into distinct branches with an upward shoot for each, and Mr.Carlyon watched and encouraged them all.
It was on one glorious Saturday morning when the fairies and nymphs and gods and goddesses were presumably asleep in the sunlight, that she drew up her knees as she sat on the grass by her Professor's chair, and pushing away the Greek grammar, said, with grave eyes fixed upon his face: "Cheiron, to-day something tells me I can show you Aphrodite.