of frying-pan and mint scented the
air. And, for the first time since this new sensation of love had come
to her, Nedda felt as if a favorite book, read through and done with,
were dropping from her hands. The lovely times in that kitchen, in every
nook of that old house and garden, would never come again! Gone! She
felt suddenly cast down to sadness. They HAD been lovely times! To be
deserting in spirit all that had been so good to her--it seemed like a
crime! She slid down off the table and, passing behind the cook, put her
arms round those substantial sides. Without meaning to, out of sheer
emotion, she pressed them somewhat hard, and, as from a concertina
emerges a jerked and drawn-out chord, so from the cook came a long,
quaking sound; her apron fell, her body heaved, and her drowsy, flat,
soft voice, greasy from pondering over dishes, murmured:

"Ah, Miss Nedda! it's you, my dear! Bless your pretty 'eart."

But down Nedda's cheeks, behind her, rolled two tears.

"Cookie, oh, Cookie!" And she ran out. . . .

And the first moment? It was like nothing she had dreamed of. Strange,
stiff! One darting look, and then eyes down; one convulsive squeeze,
then such a formal shake of hot, dry hands, and off he had gone with
Felix to his room, and she with Sheila to hers, bewildered, biting down
consternation, trying desperately to behave 'like a little lady,' as her
old nurse would have put it--before Sheila, especially, whose hostility
she knew by instinct she had earned. All that evening, furtive watching,
formal talk, and underneath a ferment of doubt and fear and longing. All
a mistake! An awful mistake! Did he love her? Heaven! If he did not,
she could never face any one again. He could not love her! His eyes
were like those of a swan when its neck is drawn up and back in anger.
Terrible--having to show nothing, having to smile at Sheila, at Dad, and
Mother! And when at last she got to her room, she stood at the window
and at first simply leaned her forehead against the glass and shivered.
What had she done? Had she dreamed it all--dreamed that they had stood
together under those boughs in the darkness, and through their lips
exchanged their hearts? She must have dreamed it! Dreamed that most
wonderful, false dream! And the walk home in the thunder-storm, and his
arm round her, and her letters, and his letter--dreamed it all! And now
she was awake! From her lips came a little moan, and she sank