"None of this happened really," triumphantly explained St. George,
"I met you at the Boris, did I not? Therefore, I think that since
then you have graciously let me see you for the proper length of
time, and at last we've fallen in love just as every one else does.
And true lovers always do have trouble, do they not? So then, Yaque
has been the usual trouble and happiness, and here we are--engaged."
"I'm not engaged," Olivia protested serenely, "but I see what you
mean. No, none of it happened," she gravely agreed. "It couldn't,
you know. Anybody will tell you that."
In her eyes was the sparkle of understanding which made St. George
love her more every time that it appeared. He noted, the white cloth
frock, and the coat of hunting pink thrown across her chair, and he
remembered that in the infinitesimal time that he had waited for her
outside the Palace of the Litany, she must have exchanged for these
the coronation robe and jewels of Queen Mitygen. St. George liked
that swift practicality in the race of faery, though he was
completely indifferent to Mrs.
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