There was something more than uncommonly queer about this stranger, an unearthliness of which he was confusedly perceptive, but she was not without a curious kind of prettiness, and her pale gold hair was beautiful. The doomed lad saw the moon shining through it.
“Kiss me, darling little boy!” she repeated.
His head whirled; for the moment she seemed divine.
George Washington used profanity at the Battle of Monmouth. Hedrick kissed her.
He instantly pushed her away with strong distaste. “There!” he said angrily. “I hope that’ll satisfy you!” He belonged to his sex.
“Kiss me some more, darling little boy!” she cried, and flung her arms about him.
With a smothered shout of dismay he tried to push her off, and they fell from the fence together, into the yard, at the cost of further and almost fatal injuries to the lady’s apparel.
Hedrick was first upon his feet. “Haven’t you got any sense?” he demanded.
She smiled unwaveringly, rose (without assistance) and repeated: “Kiss me some more, darling little boy!”
“No, I won’t! I wouldn’t for a thousand dollars!”