The bridge was open. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. It’s no good hiding it any more. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. “You see,” he said, “from my point of view you’re grown up— you’re as old as all the goddesses and the contemporary of any man alive. When first you left your home you had no idea that I was the hidden impulse. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended.
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