"How could I? You never asked. How could I?"
"Shall I ask you now?" he said.
She stretched up her arms and clasped his neck.
"No," she whispered back. "Take me—take everything—for granted. It's the only way, if you want to turn a heartless little flirt like me into—into a virtuous and amiable wife!"
And so, clinging to him, her lips met his in the first kiss that had ever passed between them.
Those Who Wait[1]
A faint draught from the hills found its way through the wide-flung door as the sun went down. It fluttered the papers on the table, and stirred a cartoon upon the wall with a dry rustling as of wind in corn.
The man who sat at the table turned his face as it were mechanically towards that blessed breath from the snows. His chin was propped on his hand. He seemed to be waiting.