for ever, and let us go.... God bless this place. I thank God. I
love God--now ..." she said.

Dam could not speak at all.

They walked away, hand in hand, incredulous, tremulous, bewildered by
the beauty and wonder and glory of Life.

Alas!

As they passed the Lodge and entered the dark avenue, Dam found his
tongue.

"Must tell Grumper," he said. Nothing mattered since Lucille loved him
like that. She'd be happier in the subaltern's hut in the plains of
India than in a palace. If Grumper didn't like it, he must lump it.
Her happiness was more important than Grumper's pleasure.

"Yes," acquiesced Lucille, "but tell him on Monday morning when you
go. Let's have this all to ourselves, darling, just for a few hours. I
believe he'll be jolly glad. Dear old bear, isn't he--really."

In the middle of the avenue Lucille stopped.

"Dammy, my son," quoth she, "tell me the absolute, bare, bald truth.
Much depends upon it and it'll spoil everything if you aren't
perfectly, painfully honest."

"Right-O," responded Dam. "Go it."

"Am I the very very loveliest woman that ever lived?"

"No," replied Dam, "but I wouldn't have a line of your face changed."

"Am I the cleverest woman in the world?"

"No. But you're quite clever enough for me. I wouldn't have you any
cleverer. God forbid."

"Am I absolutely perfect and without flaw--in character."

"No. But I love your faults."

"Do you wish to enshrine me in a golden jewel-studded temple and
worship me night and day?"

"No. I want to put you in a house and live with you."

"Hurrah," cried the surprising young woman. "That's _love_, Dam. It's
not rotten idealizing and sentimentalizing that dies away as soon as
facts are seen as such. You're a man, Dam, and I'm going to be a
woman. I loathe that bleating, glorified nonsense that the Reverend
Bill and Captain Luniac and poor old Ormonde and people talk when
they're 'in love'. _Love!_ It's just sentimental idealizing and the
worship of what does not exist and therefore cannot last. You love
_me_, don't you, Dammy, not an impossible figment of a heated
imagination? This will last, dear.... If you'd idealized me into
something unearthly and impossible you'd have tired of me in six
months or less. You'd have hated me when you saw the reality, and
found yourself tied to it for life."

"Make a speech, Daughter," replied Damocles. "Get on a stump and make
a blooming speech."

Both were a little unstrung.

"I must wire