They parted then, she to follow Peggy and superintend the evening tub, he to return to his desk and his work.
But his work did not flourish that evening; and presently, waxing impatient, he rose and went to seek her, drawn as a needle to a magnet.
He found her dressed for the regimental ball, and such was the witchery of her in her gown of shimmering black that he stood a moment in the doorway of her room as though hesitating to enter.
She turned from her table smiling her gay, sweet smile. Her silvery hair shone soft and wonderful in the lamplight.
"Ah, my dear Will," she said, "are you coming to for once? I wish you would. Do leave that stuffy old work—just to please me!" She went to meet him, with hands coaxingly outstretched. "It's getting late," she said, "I'll help you to dress."
He took the hands, gazing at her as if he could not turn his eyes away.
"There's not much point in my trying to work to-night," he said, his
voice very deep and a trifle husky. "I see and think of nothing but you.
Great heavens, Daisy, how lovely you are!"
She laughed at him with tender raillery. "Dearly beloved gander, there is no one in the world thinks so but you."
"You've turned my head to-night," he said, still gazing at her. "By
Heaven, I believe I'm falling in love with you all over again."
"Ah, well, it's to some purpose this time," she laughed, "for I'm very badly smitten too."
He did not laugh; he could not. "Daisy," he said, "we will have that honeymoon."