“Yes, indeed I like the people!” I vowed, fervently. “And one person in particular!” If this remark had been intended to evoke a telltale reply, it was to fail signally. “Oh, I am glad you are so attached to your friends!” she responded, whether innocently or with calculating cleverness I could not say, since the darkness concealed any blush that may have suffused her face. “But don’t you understand, Aelios?” I persisted. “Don’t you know whom in particular I mean?” The note of surprise in her answer was either genuine or else was born of remarkably skilful acting. “How should I know whom you mean? Am I with you often enough to know all your friends?” She was making matters difficult for me. But, having reached this tactical position, I was determined not to surrender. “Why, Aelios,” I countered, “whom should you imagine that I have for my particular friend? Whom but yourself?” “Myself?” she repeated, in sheer astonishment. “Myself?” * * * * * For a moment there was silence; but this time I felt that there could be no doubt about the blush that mounted to her face. And at length she turned to me with softly, smoldering eyes and the assurance of victory entered my heart and then swiftly receded as she murmured, bashfully, “I am pleased, very much pleased, to know you feel that way. It is a great compliment to me, and I am very proud--for nothing in Atlantis is held more precious than friendship.” “Oh, but it is not only friendship!” I remonstrated, wondering if it were possible that she still misunderstood. “It’s not only friendship, Aelios! It is love!”