“What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. ” The lady stood away from the door. “How will you live?” she appealed. “Will you tell me what all this is about?” said Capes. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you.
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