"I shouldn't for any one else. But you, oh, my lily-fair girl, you are so beautiful, so peerless——"
"Good gracious, Mr. Blaney, what has come over you?" Patty sat up straight, in dismay, for she had no intention of being talked to in that vein by Sam Blaney.
"The spell of your presence," he replied; "the spell of your beauty,—your charm, your——"
"Please don't," said Patty, "please don't talk to me like that! I don't like it."
"No? Then of course I'll stop. But the spell remains. The witchery of your face, your voice——"
"There you go again! You promised to stop."
"How can I, with you as inspiration? My soul expands,—my heart beats in lilting rhythms, you seem to me a flame goddess——"
"Just what is a flame goddess?" interrupted Patty, who wanted to giggle, but was too polite.
"I see your soul as a flame of fire,—a lambent flame, with tongues of red and yellow——"
And now Patty did laugh outright. She couldn't help it. "Oh, my soul hasn't tongues," she protested. "I'm sure it hasn't, Mr. Blaney."