She was in love with John--furiously, wildly, heart-breakingly in
love with him. And she was going to have to live close by him for a
month, knowing that, and keeping him from knowing it--and then go
away from him and never see him any more.
"This is our dance, Sorcerette," said Clarence's voice in her ear.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A FOUNTAIN IN FAIRYLAND
Joy had supposed, when she finally went to sleep at three in the
morning, that she would waken with all the excitement gone and
feeling very unhappy. She had always heard that it made you unhappy
to be in love.
Instead, she opened her eyes with the excitement of it all still
pulsing through her. The fact that John was in the world and she
could care for him seemed almost enough to account for the sense of
happiness that possessed her as she pattered over to the window and
looked out. And what little more was needed to account for her
exhilaration could be found in the wonderful September morning
outside. There probably _were_ troubles somewhere or other,
such as darkened city parlors, minor poets, and sophisticated
seekers after John, but somehow she and they didn't connect. The air
was so tingling and sunny, and the garden was so beautiful, and being
young and free and in the country was so heavenly that she dressed
and ran down, and sang along the garden paths as she picked herself
a big bunch of golden chrysanthemums and purple and pink asters.
Pages:
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138