table, put his fists against his temples, and began again:

"`High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate
And thus her dismal errand did relate--'

Have you got the place in the Latin?" he interrupted himself.

Fortunately he did not look up, for she was watching the waving
boughs. "Yes," she replied, hastily returning to the book.
"You do your part and I'll do mine."

He read a few lines in an absent-minded sing-song, then
interrupted himself once more: "Did you ever smell anything
like that breeze?"

"Never. `Bellum etiam pro caede bovum'--go on--I'm
listening--or trying to."

He read:

"`But know that ere your promised walls you build,
My curse shall severely be fulfilled.
Fierce famine is your lot--for this misdeed,
Reduced to grind the plates on which you feed.' "

He glanced at her. She was leaning on her elbow, obviously
weaving day-dreams round those boughs as they trembled with the
ecstasy of spring.

"You are happy to-day?" he said.