"'Beauty is only a veil which the soul looks through; how perfect then must be your soul, dearest!'
"Then came these unspoken words which puzzled me--
"'What queer things men are!--but I like to hear him, and perhaps it is true; but if so, how horrid most women must be!' Then out loud--'I fancy you will soon get tired of me.'
"'Tired! It makes me mad when I think of ever having an opportunity of getting tired--to have you with me always--to know that we can never be parted--to feel that death itself will only bring us closer: I almost wish that we could die now, for such great happiness makes me afraid something may come. Oh, Vera! you will always love me?'
"'Of course, dear!'
"Then this thought followed--
"'I wish he would not talk about death; I hate death, I don't want to die. It is quite nice enough to be here having some one loving and petting me, without thinking about the future. I wonder if he is going to kiss me? I thought men always kissed girls when they proposed to them!'
"This was enough for me. I had been afraid to venture on what seemed so great a liberty, but now I moved forward and was about to kiss her, when to my surprise she drew away saying--
"'Oh, don't! You frighten me!'
"'Why, dearest, you cannot be afraid of me? Will you not let me have just one when you know how I should prize it!'