radiantly. His heart sang within him, for the woman he loved out
of a world of beautiful women was coming to him, light-footed as
Daphne, the rhythm of the morning in her step.

She spoke, commonplace words enough. "Last night I heard you were
here."

"And I didn't know you were within a thousand miles."

"We came back to Verden Thursday and are up over Sunday," she
explained.

He was lost in the witchery of the spell she cast over him. Not
the drooping maidenhair ferns through which she trailed were more
delicate or graceful than she. But some instinct in him played
surface commonplaces against the insurgent emotion of his heart.

"You like Washington?"

"I like home better."

"But you were popular at the capital. I read a great deal in the
papers about your triumphs."

The dye in her cheeks ran a little stronger. There had been much
gossip about a certain Italian nobleman who had wooed her openly
and madly. "They told a lot of nonsense."

"And some that wasn't nonsense."