The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. “Thank God,” he exclaimed. It was perfectly logical. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. It contains news of the serious illness of a near relation at Paris. He told me that he was a millionaire. I was stupid—stupid and impulsive beyond measure to burst upon you in this way. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry.
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