What did anything matter; they both were lonely and both needed comforting.
He kissed her not once but twenty times,—not twenty times but a hundred.
“It’s abominable you’re being here,” he said at last.
“I am very, very tired,” she confessed.
“And you’ll go back to the city when I go?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, doubtfully. “I don’t know whether she’ll let me.”
Jack laughed.
“To-morrow I will beard Aunt Mary in her den,” he declared; “now let’s go in and—and—”
The hundred and first!