Giona had not slept well because she had sensed when the Duke of Alverstode had said goodnight that something had annoyed him. "What has... upset him? What could... I have... done?" she asked herself. Then she went over it in her mind.

The Duke had kissed his grandmother's cheek and walked towards the front door. He had not yet spoken to Giona. He was at the door when she said wistfully: "Goodnight... Your Grace."

He did not look at her, nor turn his head. He merely replied: "Goodnight!" as if he were speaking from the icy reaches of the North Pole. He drove away, and Giona, watching until the carriage was out of sight, felt as if it carried her heart with it.

It was not until several hours later in the darkness of her bedroom that she admitted to herself that she loved the Duke. "I love him! I love him!" she whispered into her pillow. She tossed and turned until the first golden fingers of dawn crept up the sky. It was only then that she fell asleep, with the word "love" on her lips.