"You mustn't lay it up against me," he said brokenly.
Her lips were full and lovely, and her eyes shone with the one look of happiness.
"It's spring with these." He pointed to the birches. "It ain't with us."
"I don't know." Marietta laughed willfully. "Ain't you ever seen an apple-tree blooming in the fall? or a late rose? Well, I have. So, there!"
To Jerry, looking at her, she seemed like a beautiful stranger, met in the way, and he kissed her again.
When they were driving home in their sober intimacy that had yet an undercurrent of that rushing river of life, Marietta turned suddenly to him.
"Jerry," she said, "when you played croquet, who beat?"
His eyes, meeting hers, took the merry challenge of them and answered it. They both began to laugh, ecstatically, like children.
"She did," said he.