Innocent's voice faltered here--then she said--"That is the end.
He signed it 'Amadis.'"

Robin was very quiet for a minute or two.

"It's pretty--very pretty and touching--and all that sort of
thing," he said at last--"but it's like some old sonnet or
mediaeval bit of romance. No one would go on like that nowadays."

Innocent lifted her eyebrows, quizzically.

"Go on like what?"

He moved impatiently.

"Oh, about being patient in solitude with one's soul, and saying
farewell to love." He gave a short laugh. "Innocent dear, I wish
you would see the world as it really is!--not through the old-
style spectacles of the Sieur Amadis! In his day people were
altogether different from what they are now."

"I'm sure they were!" she answered, quietly--"But love is the same
to-day as it was then."

He considered a moment, then smiled.

"No, dear, I'm not sure that it is," he said. "Those knights and
poets and curious people of that kind lived in a sort of imaginary
ecstasy--they exaggerated their emotions and lived at the top-