"Not until some day they open—in answer to that call," he replied.
"I did n't mean that, Peter," she said hurriedly. "Only I'm so mixed up myself."
"It's so new to you," he nodded. "To me it's like a day foreseen a dozen years. Long before I saw you I knew I was getting ready for you. Now—what do a few weeks matter?"
"It may be months, Peter, before I'm quite steady."
"Even if it's years," he exclaimed, "I've felt your lips."
"Only on your eyes," she cried in terror.
"I—I would n't dare to feel them except on my eyes—for a little while. Even there they take away my breath."