Captain Pullen was not slow to accept the invitation so confidingly extended. What Englishman would be? He turned his face to Harriet Brandt’s, and her full red lips met his own, in a long-drawn kiss, that seemed to sap his vitality. As he raised his head again, he felt faint and sick, but quickly recovering himself, he gave her a second kiss more passionate, if possible, than the first. Then the following whispered conversation ensued between them.
“Do you know,” he commenced, with his head close to hers, “that you are the very jolliest little girl that I have ever met!”
“And you—you are the man I have dreamt of, but never seen till now!”
“How is that? Am I so different from the rest of my sex?”
“Very—very different! So strong and brave and beautiful!”
“Dear little girl! And so you really like me?”
“I love you,” said Harriet feverishly, “I loved you the first minute we met.”
“And I love you! You’re awfully sweet and pretty, you know!”
“Do you really think so? What would Mrs. Pullen say if she heard you?”
“Mrs. Pullen is not the keeper of my conscience. But she must not hear it.”