Ahead of them the lights of the car flitted like golden moths over the dust of the road, and in the sky, beyond the thin veil of mist, the stars were shining over the city.

Spring, which possessed the earth, bloomed in Gabriella's heart with a wonderful colour, a wonderful fragrance.

She was young again with the imperishable youth of magic, of enchantment.

To love, to hope, to strive, this was both romance and adventure.
"Is it too late, then, Gabriella ?" asked Arthur, after a long silence, and in his voice there was the sound of suffering acquiescence.
"I'm afraid it is, dear Arthur," she answered softly, and they did not speak again until the lights blazed over them, and they ran into Monument Avenue.

After all, it was too late.