"I doubt if he knows what happiness is," said Apollo. "Forgive
me, but will he not be as happy with his altar candles and his
chants without you? Does he not care more for the abstract cause
for which he is working than for you? Hasn't he missed the
simple meaning of human life, and can anything teach it to him?"

"How did you know?" asked Daphne, startled.

"The gods should divine some things that are not told! Besides,
I know the man," he answered, smiling, but Daphne did not hear.
She had leaned back and closed her eyes. The warm, sweet air,
with its odor of earth, wooed her; the little breeze that made so
faint a rustle in the ilex leaves touched her cheek like quick,
fluttering kisses. The rhythmical drops from the fountain seemed
falling to the music of an old order of things, some simple,
elemental way of loving that made harmony through all life.
Could love, that had meant only duty, have anything to do with
this great joy in mere being, which turned the world to gold?

"I must, I must win you," came the voice again, and it was like a
cry. "Loving with more than human love, I will not be
denied!"

She opened her eyes and watched him: the whole, firmly-knit
frame in the brown golf-suit was quivering.

"It has never turned out well," she said lightly, "when the sons
of the gods married with the daughters of men."

Perhaps he would have rebuked her for the jest, but he saw her