It was a foolish thing to say; but when were lovers ever wise?
Bebee did not heed; she did not understand herself or him; she only knew that she was happy; when one knows that, one does not want to seek much further.
She sat on the thatch and took her bread and milk in the gray clear air, with the swallows circling above her head, and one or two of them even resting a second on the edge of the bowl to peck at the food from the big wooden spoon; they had known her all the sixteen summers of her life, and were her playfellows, only they would never tell her anything of what they saw in winter over the seas.

That was her only quarrel with them.
Swallows do not tell their secrets They have the weird of Procne on them all.
The sun came and touched the lichens of the roof into gold.
Bebee smiled at it gayly as it rose above the tops of the trees, and shone on all the little villages scattered over the plains.
"Ah, dear Sun!" she cried to it.

"I am going to be wise.

I am going into great Rubes' country.

I am going to hear of the Past and the Future.