Her lovely eyes had a suspicion of moisture. The blood rushed through my head, and I could feel its turbulent throb-throb across the temples and at my heart.
I was in heaven, and residence in heaven makes one bold.
"You really would like me to stay?" I almost whispered, in a tone that was equivalent to a declaration.
Her eyes met mine in silence for a few instants, and then she said, with a touch of melancholy:
"In all my life I've only had two friends—I mean since my mother's death; and you are the third."
"Is that all?"
"You don't know what a life like mine is," she went on, with feeling. "I'm only a prima donna, you know. People think that because I can make as much money in three hours as a milliner's girl can make in three years, and because I'm always in the midst of luxuries, and because I have whims and caprices, and because my face has certain curves in it, and because men get jealous with each other about kissing my hand, that therefore I've got all I want."
"Certain curves!" I burst out. "Why, you're the most beautiful creature I ever saw!"
"There!" she cried. "That's just how they all talk. I do hate it."