"Why, of course I do; haven't I been apodictically adoring you?"
She looked at him, bewildered. "I thought there was something queer about it; perhaps that's it. But you haven't called me 'dear' once."
"But I've called you 'Nepenthe' and 'Chloe'." He looked down at her patronizingly.
"'Darling' is good enough for me—I guess I like the old-fashioned words best, dear," she whispered shyly.
He quoted:
"Some to the fascination of a name
Surrender judgment hoodwinked,"
and laughed to himself at the appositeness of Cowper's lines.
"Oh, yes, you know some lovely poetry, Blan, but I'm afraid I'm not poetical. I like the things they say in songs,—things I can understand. I'd rather hear slang—"
"'The illegitimate sister of poetry—'"
She looked up at him blankly. Then she sighed and turned her eyes off to the darkling water.