He made pretense of lifting her in his arms.
“No.... No.... I must have an elevator. Oh, you do not get me an elevator.” There was awful despair in her voice. “You do not love me.... No.... Then I shall go away. You are not kind.”
“I’ll get you two elevators. I’ll get you half a dozen, but the elevator-store is closed for the night. You’ll have to wait till morning.”
“Oh, I do not onderstan’. You speak trop vite—much fast. So I shall ron away from you....” And she danced away from him up the stairs, not at all like a young woman, but wholly like a child, with the glee of a child. “Behol’!” she cried, presently. “The clef it is under the mat. I find it. I know where it is hidden. Now I shall come by night and rob you.... I shall carry away everything—everything.”
She handed him the huge key and he opened the door for her and allowed her to pass into the narrow hall. She stopped timidly, waiting for him to enter, peering about as if some danger might lurk behind any of the doors. She was very sweet, very dainty....
“Mignonne,” he said, and took both her hands—and then she was in his arms, her lips to his ... and he knew that he loved her, that she had charmed his heart into her keeping—and that he was very glad to have it there.
“You love me?” she whispered.
“Much.... Much.... And you?”
“Oh yes.... I am not solitaire now. Je suis très-joyeuse.”
“You must always be glad. You must always be happy.”