“No. I don't want to.”
“I mustn't keep you standing here, and I mustn't go in with you—but—I just wanted to say—I've seemed very stupid to myself this morning, grumbling about soot and all that—while all the time I—Mary, I think it's been the very happiest of all the hours you've given me. I do. And—I don't know just why—but it's seemed to me that it was one I'd always remember. And you,” he added, falteringly, “you look so—so beautiful to-day!”
“It must have been the soot on my cheek, Bibbs.”
“Mary, will you tell me something?” he asked.
“I think I will.”
“It's something I've had a lot of theories about, but none of them ever just fits. You used to wear furs in the fall, but now it's so much colder, you don't—you never wear them at all any more. Why don't you?”
Her eyes fell for a moment, and she grew red. Then she looked up gaily. “Bibbs, if I tell you the answer will you promise not to ask any more questions?”
“Yes. Why did you stop wearing them?”
“Because I found I'd be warmer without them!” She caught his hand quickly in her own for an instant, laughed into his eyes, and ran into the house.