All my life shall be built about this single month--my past ends with it, my future begins.

You, Rosalie," he went on swiftly, his eyes gleaming with the love that would not be denied, "are the spirit of life as I shall know it from this day forth.

It is you who have made Tinkletown a kingdom, one of its homes a palace.

Don't turn your face away, Rosalie." But she turned her face toward him and her dark eyes did not flinch as they met his, out there in the bleak old wood.
"Don't, please don't, Wicker," she said softly, firmly.

Her hand touched his arm for an instant.