"Can you be jealous—Paul?"
"Horribly! You don't know half my bad qualities. I am poor and needy, and ambitious and jealous, and—"
"There—there. I won't hear you run yourself down. You are the best boy in the world."
"Poor world, if I am that," he laughed, and squeezed the little hand. "Oh, my love, do you really think of me?"
"Always! Always! You know I do. Why, ever since I saw you enter the shop six months ago I have always loved you. I told Debby, and Debby said that I could."
"Supposing Debby had said that you couldn't."
"Oh, she would never have said that. Why, Paul, she saw you."
The young man laughed and colored. "Do I carry my character in my face?" he asked. "Sylvia, don't think too well of me."
"That is impossible," she declared. "You are my fairy prince."
"Well, I certainly have found an enchanted princess sleeping in a jealously-guarded castle. What would your father say did he know?"