with
their enchantment; the faint fragrance of her dazed him.

In silence she bent her head, remained curbed, motionless for a few
moments, then slowly lifted her eyes to his.

"How much do you want me, Louis?"

"You know."

"Enough to--give me up?"

His lips stiffened and refused at first, then:

"Yes," they motioned. And she saw the word they formed.

"I knew it," she breathed; "I only wanted to hear you say it again.... I
don't know why I'm crying;--do you?... What a perfect ninny a girl can
be when she tries to.... _All_ over your 'collar, too.... And now you're
what Mr. Mantalini would call 'demned moist and unpleasant!' ... I--I
don't want to--s-sob--this way! I do-don't wish to ... M-make me stop,
Louis!... I'd like a handkerchief--anything--give me Gladys and I'll
staunch my tears on her!"

She slipped from the bed's edge to the floor, and stood with her back
toward him. Then she glanced sideways at the mirror to inspect her nose.

"Thank goodness _that_ isn't red," she said gaily.... "Kelly, I'm
hungry.... I've fasted since dawn--on this day--because I wanted to
break bread with you on the first day of our new life together."

He looked at her, appalled, but she laughed and went into the studio.
There was a beautiful old sideboard there always well stocked.

He turned on the lights, brought peaches and melons and strawberries and
milk from the ice-chest, and found her already preparing chocolate over
the electric grill and buttering immense slices of peasant bread.

"It's after two o'clock," she said, delighted. "Isn't this divinely
silly? I wonder if there happens to be any salad in the ice-chest?"

"Cold chicken, too," he nodded, watching her set the table.

She glanced at him over her shoulder from time to time:

"Louis, are you going to enjoy all this? _All of_ it?
You--somehow--don't look entirely happy--"

"I am.... All I wanted was to see you--hear your voice.... I shall be
contented now."

"With just a view of me, and the sound of my voice?"

"You know there is--nothing more for us."

"I know nothing of the kind. The idea! And don't you dare struggle and
kick and scream when I kiss you. Do you hear me, Louis?"

He laughed and watched her as she went swiftly and gracefully about the
table arrangement, glancing up at him from moment to moment.

"The idea," she repeated, indignantly. "I guess I'll kiss you when I
choose to. You are not in holy orders, are you? You haven't made any