"Regular 'prunes and prisms,'" agreed Benis.
"It is very red, though."
"Lipstick, probably."
"But I thought you liked small, red mouths."
"Hate 'em," said Benis, who had a shockingly bad memory.
Desire went to bed thoughtful. "I suppose," she thought as she lay listening to the swinging train, "men like certain things because they belong to certain people and not because they like them really at all." This was not very lucid but it seemed to satisfy Desire for she stopped thinking and went to sleep.
Morning found them on the top of the world. Desire was up and out long before the mists had lifted. She watched the wonder of their going, she saw the coming of the sun. She drew in, with great deep breaths, the high, sweet air. The cream of her skin glowed softly with the tang of it.
"Quite lovely!" said a voice behind her, and Desire turned to find her solitude shared by the young old lady from Golden.
"Your complexion, I mean, my dear," said she, sitting down comfortably in the folds of a fur coat. "I never use adjectives about the mountains. It would seem impertinent. How old are you?"
Desire gave her age smiling. "Charming age," nodded the old lady. "Youth is a wonderful thing. See that you keep it."