Noll went to her and put his arms about her, and kissed her upon the mouth. And he said never a word.
CHAPTER XL
Which, in Somewhat Indelicate Eavesdropping Fashion, hovers about a Trysting-Place, and Scandalously Repeats a Private Conversation
In the wintry twilight that came hazing softly down upon the city, and cast its dusky shadow over St. James’s Park, sat Noll on a bench, and by his side was Betty Modeyne. He sat stooped forward, elbow on knee, chin in hand, and gazed at the girl’s face lovingly.
“Thou dearest heart!” said he; and she reached out her dainty gloved hand and took his within her slender fingers.
“Betty,” said he, “you have brought delight to me again—the day and night are full of song and all the world is grown musical—you paint the very greys of life with colour. I am glad to be alive—for you feed my eyes with dreams of you and my senses with the fragrance of you. It would be enough to be alive, but you have filled me with eagerness, my bones with strength, my body with will.... I cannot sit idle longer, nor be content with half-life.... You must marry me, dear heart; and we will go to Paris and begin living splendidly and a-new.”
“Hush, Noll,” said she, smiling down upon him; and she stroked his hand. “We are so young, and—I am so glad——”
He laughed for love of her: