“There.”
As he took the paper from her, their fingers touched and clung together. “What’s this? Your New York address? You mean that we can write to each other?”
Her eyes mocked his trouble with tenderness. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Then what?”
“That you’ll know where to find me when you come to America.”
“But I can’t I——”
She broke from him and ran up the steps. As she crossed the threshold she let her cloak slip from her. He saw again for one fleeting moment her sandaled feet and her pageant costume.
The door was closing. Before it shut she kissed the tips of her fingers to him.
“You can if you really care.”