"I want to love it. Do you wish me to say more than that, to make
promises I may not be able to keep?"

"No," he had answered. "I only want truth from you." And after a moment
he had added, "I shall never want anything from you but your truth."

She had looked at him rather strangely, like one moved by conflicting
feelings, and after a slight hesitation she had said:

"Dion, do you realize all the meaning in those words of yours?"

"Of course I do."

"Then if you really mean them you must be one of the most daring of
human beings. But I shall try a compromise with you. I shall try to give
you my best truth, never my worst. You deserve that, I think. Indeed, I
know you do."

And he had left it to her. Was he not wise to do that? Already he
trusted her absolutely, as he had never thought to trust any one.

"I could face any storm with you," he once said to Rosamund.

Rosamund had wanted to love Greece, and from the first moment of seeing
the land she had loved it.

In the beginning of their stay she had scarcely been able to believe
that she was really in Athens. A great name had aroused in her
imagination a conception of a great city. The soft familiarity, the