He stooped lower over her closed eyes and murmuring lips. She seemed aware of him; she turned her face aside. He brushed her cool cheek and thrilled to the touch of it.
He waited. She still sang softly with her eyes fast shut, as though advising him:
“So, honey, jest play in your own backyard.”
Over and over she hummed the line. He crept back into his place in the darkness.
When they had drawn up before the apartment and he had jumped to the pavement to help her out, she whispered reproachfully, “Meester Deek, you did get out quickly.” Then, as they said good-by, “It’s been the nicest time we’ve ever had.”
It was only after she had vanished that he asked himself what she had meant, “You did get out quickly.” At the last moment was she going to have kissed him, or to have given him her lips to kiss? And, “The nicest time we’ve ever had”—did she know that he had been trembling to ask her to marry him?
When he got back to the Brevoort he destroyed the letter he had written to Hal. His optimism was aflame; soon he would have something better to write him. He fell asleep that night with the coolness of her cheek upon his lips.