She turned her head slowly toward him; her throat throbbing and a delicate pink under her skin.
"I should care, Marcus!" she said, softly.
"What?"
"I should care!" she repeated. "We should live little then, if we can't live big—live little."
"What do you mean, Birdie?"
She regarded and invited him with her eyes, and he stood away from her like a tired traveler trying to shut out the song of the Lorelei!
"Birdie, I ain't got the right! I—I—you been used to so much. With you it ain't like with most girls—your mamma and your papa they—"
Even as he spoke they were somehow in their first embrace, and round their heads came crashing various castles in Spain, and they sat among the ruins and smiled into each other's radiant eyes and whispered, with their warm hands touching:
"I don't deserve such a prize as you, Birdie!"
"Such a scare as you gave me, Marcus! I thought first you meant—you—meant it was me you didn't want."