Love! What would love be like?
Her father loved her, and she loved him.

She loved her mother; and Alan on the whole was jolly to her--it was not that.

What was it--where was it--when would it come and wake her, and kiss her to sleep, all in one?
Come and fill her as with the warmth and color, the freshness, light, and shadow of this beautiful May evening, flood her as with the singing of those birds, and the warm light sunning the apple blossoms.

And she sighed.

Then--as with all young things whose attention after all is but as the hovering of a butterfly--her speculation was attracted to a thin, high-shouldered figure limping on a stick, away from the house, down one of the paths among the apple-trees.