"O my John!" she whispered, her embrace tightening, "how might I live without thee? And he is so cold, so—deadly!"
"Yet art not afraid for thyself, Betty!"
"Nor ever shall be. So promise me, John—O promise me! Swear me, dear love!" And with each entreaty she kissed him, and so at last he gave her his promise, kneeling thus his head pillowed between soft neck and shoulder; and being in this fragrant nest his lips came upon her smooth throat and he kissed it, clasping her in sudden, passionate arms.
"John!" she whispered breathlessly. "O John!"
Instantly he loosed his hold and rising, stood looking down at her remorsefully.
"Dear—have I—angered you?" he questioned in stammering humility.
"Angry—and with thee?" and she laughed, though a little tremulously.
"Betty, I do worship thee—revere thee as a goddess—and yet——"
"You tickle me, John! You are by turns so reverent and humble and so—so opposite. I do love your respect and reverent homage, 'tis this doth make me yearn to be more worthy—but alack! I am a very woman, John, especially with thine arms about me and—and the moon at the full. But heigho, the moon is on the wane, see, she sinketh apace."
"Dawn will be soon, Betty."