Page 148 sur 490

When poverty creeps in at the door, love flies in through the

window. Our proverbs want rewriting. They were made in winter,

and it is summer now; spring-time for me, I think, a very dance

of blossoms in blue skies."

"He is a gentleman," said the lad sullenly.

"A prince!" she cried musically. "What more do you want?"

"He wants to enslave you."

"I shudder at the thought of being free."

"I want you to beware of him."

"To see him is to worship him; to know him is to trust him."

"Sibyl, you are mad about him."