The lights from the bridge danced for her in the black water, reflecting the lightness of her heart.

She was in that pleasant attitude of mind--poised--like a diver on a summer day, before he plunges into the glittering green water.

A few more days, another meeting, and she knew that she would be immersed--deeply in love.

Now she toyed with it, held the moment at arm's length, and let her eyes feast on the seeming voluptuous certainty of it.

And when Mr.Arthur began the long preface to the point towards which his mind was set, it sounded distant, aloof, as the monotonous voice of a priest, chanting dull prayers in an empty church, must sound in the ears of one whose whole soul is struggling to lift to a communion with God Himself.
"I only want to know if you have made up your mind ?" he said, when he had finished his preamble.
"Yes, Mr.Arthur, I have." "You can't ?" He took the note in her voice.