“Light the candles,” he said, “this firelight is too good to drown in a flood of electric light!”
“Is that better?” she asked.
They were standing before the fireplace; the embers had burned to a gentle glowing radiance. Of the four candles she had lighted, the wick of only one had taken fire and was burning. Nancy’s breath caught in her throat, and she could not steady it. Collier Pratt took a step forward and held out his arms.
“No, this is better,” he said.
“I thought there was some place in the world where I could be—comfortable,” Nancy said, when she finally lifted her head from the shoulder of the shabby, immaculate black suit, “but I wasn’t quite sure.”
“Are you sure now, you little wonder woman?” He held her at the length of his arm for a moment and gazed curiously into her face. Then he drew her slowly toward him again. She met his kiss bravely, so bravely that he understood the quality of her courage.
“I didn’t realize that this would be the first time,” he said.
“There couldn’t have been any other time,” Nancy breathed, “you know that.”
“I didn’t know,” Collier Pratt said thoughtfully. “Oh! you little American girls, with 203 your strange, straight-laced little bodies and your fearless souls!”