"Why, you puss, I have told you twice already."
"I forget it, I want to hear it again."
These small deceptions are permissible between lovers, when they are used to such felicitous purpose. He told her again, and her bosom panted, and her heart beat, and a proud and tender light shone in her eyes as he described the mad gallop he had taken; how her face was ever before him, urging him on; how he had won the flowers; the way the woman had said, "O, if it's for that!" then the ride back, singing as he rode----
"Singing!" she exclaimed, interrupting him. "O, you didn't tell me that last night. I knew you had left something out."
"I did sing, and the trees heard me."
"What song was it, sir?"
"Philip!"
"Philip, then. What song did you sing?"
"No song at all--yes, the sweetest song! A song with only one word to it."
"With only one word to it! Dear me I know some, and I don't know that--and the sweetest song, you say."