“Kiss me!” said Paula.
She put up her red mouth temptingly, her eyes teasing and gay. And Sheldon hesitated no longer and was afraid no longer, but took her into his arms, hoop-skirts and flounces and ribbons and laces and all, and held her tight, tight.
“Oh!” laughed Paula. “You are like a bear. You hurt, and you will ruin my dress. I have saved it always—always and always—for—”
“For what, Paula, dear?” he asked.
“For to-night—for you!” she answered, her voice an awed whisper like his own.
“But you didn’t know—”
“Oh, I always knew! Some time you would come, a man tall like poor father, and strong—and young—and beautiful! I would dream of it sometimes and it would make me shiver, like cold. Like you make me shiver now!”
“Oh, my dear, my dear,” said Sheldon. “And I have been afraid you would never come back; I have walked mile after mile looking for you.”
“I know!” nodded Paula brightly. “I watched you every day.”
“What!” he cried.