Bootles turned round to her. “Well?” he answered.
Miss Mignon heard the misery in his voice and ran to him. “Bootles got a headache?” she asked.
He dropped into a chair and took her in his arms
He dropped into a chair and took her in his arms. “Such a headache, Mignon.”
Miss Mignon knew what Bootles’s headaches were, and drew his head down upon her small shoulder with an air of protecting and comforting dignity, equally pretty and absurd in one so young.
“Mignon loves Bootles,” she whispered.
“Will Mignon always love Bootles?” he asked.
“Always,” was the confident reply. “Mignon will always love Bootles.”