'Good-morning,' she said quietly, and they kissed. 'I think I love you too,' she said. 'I came out to tell you that.' Mrs. Emsworth kissed her again. 'That is nice too,' she said. 'But what makes you?' 'I don't know. I think it was seeing you in that horrid play last night. You were like a sunbeam in--in a cesspool. But why do that sort of thing?' Mrs. Emsworth shrugged her shoulders. 'Because people are beasts, my dear,' she said--'because they like that sort of thing. And one has to live.' Amelie thought a moment, with her face growing grave. 'Oh, I am sorry, I am sorry,' she said. A sudden impatience and ungovernable irritation filled Dorothy. She felt as if she was being hauled back to her ordinary life, when she was so happy in the sweetness of the early morning hour. Why did this stupid, gawky girl come and speak to her like this? But with an effort at self-control stronger than she usually bothered herself to make, she mastered it. 'Oh, never mind, never mind,' she said. 'Walk with me a little further, and let me look at you because you are beautiful, and the trees because they are beautiful, and the grass and the sky. What a heavenly moment! Do not let us waste it. Look, the lawns are empty, where yesterday they were full with all sorts of silly and wicked people. Is that an insult to your mother's guests? I think it is. Anyhow, I was one of the silly, wicked people. But now I am not silly or wicked; I am very good, and very innocent, and I want to take everything into my arms and stroke it. My God! what a beautiful world! I am so glad I did not die in the night.' Amelie laughed. This mood found in her a ready response. 'Yes, yes,' she cried; 'go on. I know what you mean. You want to be rid of all else, to be just a consciousness in the world. I have felt that. What does it say?' Dorothy shook her head. 'It never says the same thing for five minutes,' she said. 'Just now you and I feel that. If we sat here for a quarter of an hour we should begin to talk _chiffon._ If we sat here longer we might talk scandal. Only I think these moments are given us as a sort of refreshment. God washes our faces every now and then, and we proceed to soil them instantly.' She turned to her companion eagerly. 'Don't soil yours,' she said. 'Don't let others soil it. It grows on you; it is like using rouge,' and she broke off suddenly. There was silence a moment, then Amelie said: 'Look, here is Tommy coming back from the house.' Mrs. Emsworth rose. 'Let us go in,' she said. 'It is time for me to have breakfast, as I am going by the early train. But remember that I was good for ten minutes--if '--and her voice quavered--' if people, as they are sure to do, tell you things.' They passed Tommy, who paused as they got near. Mrs. Emsworth seemed not to notice him. Then she looked back. 'Dear little chap,' she said, and, retracing her steps, kissed him again.