“My sweet, my sweet, my beautiful, my little wonder-woman!” he breathed. “Did you think I could live without you?”
She was leaning, half fainting, against his breast, like a wind-blown flower.
“I’ve come for you,” he said hoarsely. “Dearest, sweetest Jinnie!”
She pressed backward, loyalty for another woman rising within her.
“But Molly, Molly the Merry––” she breathed.
Theodore shook his head.
“I only know I love you, sweetheart, that I’ve come for you,” and as his lips met hers, Jinnie clung to him, a very sweet young thing, and between those warm, passionate kisses she heard him murmur:
“God made you mine, littlest love!”
And so they went forth from the lonely farmhouse, with none but the cobbler’s angels watching over them.
THE END