“I think any man who has an eye for the beautiful would only be too glad to marry such a lovely pauper.”
“That’s nice. Say it again and slowly.”
“A lovely pauper, an adorable pauper, an angelic———”
“Stop! stop! You flatter too much. You don’t mean what you say.”
“Not a word,” confessed Alan candidly.
Marie grew red and her eyes flashed. “Then how dare you say such things!”
“You expect me to and you shouldn’t fish.”
“In shallow water? Certainly not! Alan Eric Reginald Fuller,” she gave him his complete name and pinched his arm, “you are a bear.”
“Bears hug,” said the lover, taking her in his arms.
“Oh, my gracious, you will get me into trouble,” cried Marie, extricating herself with some difficulty and flying across the lawn, followed hot-footed by Alan. “Come and hide out of sight of those horrid windows. Uncle Ran is sure to see us otherwise, and will order me indoors. Come! come,” she sang like a siren and fled after the fashion of Atalanta into the woods.