"Writing at this time of night!" he exclaimed; "we supposed you asleep long ago."
"Sh! don't speak so loud," she protested. "You'll have Aunt Marcia up here! I have nearly finished my writing, so you needn't scold."
Glancing at the large journal lying open on her desk, Darrell asked, with a quizzical smile,—
"Couldn't that have been postponed for a few hours?"
"Not to-night," she replied, with emphasis; "ordinarily, you know, it could and would have been postponed, perhaps indefinitely, but not to-night!"
She glanced shyly into his eyes, and her own fell, as she added, in a lower tone,—
"To-night has memories so golden I want to preserve them before they have been dimmed by even one hour's sleep!"
Darrell's face grew marvellously tender; he drew her head down upon his breast while he caressed the rippling hair with its waves of light and shade.
"This night will always have golden memories for me, Kathie," he said, "and neither days nor years can ever dim their lustre; of that I am sure."
Kate raised her head, drawing herself slightly away from his embrace so that she could look him in the face.