Harley now looked at his watch, something he had been eager to do for a time that seemed interminable to him; it was yet early, so the watch told him, but he looked out next at the heavens and the day was unfolding. "I will go now; I refuse to wait any longer," he said to himself, and he slipped away from the crowd.
He went rapidly down the street, and the Presidential campaign was not in his mind at all; the only thought there was Sylvia! Sylvia! He stood presently before the Grayson door and rang the bell. He remembered how he had rung that same bell five months ago, never dreaming that his fate would answer his ring. And now that same happy fate was answering it again, because, when the door swung back, there was Sylvia, her hand upon the bolt and the smile of young love that has found its own upon her face.
"I knew it was you—I knew your ring," she said, unconscious of the fact that one ring is like another.
"And you came to meet me," said Harley. "It is fitting; you opened it first to me and you let my happiness in."
"And you brought mine with you when you came."
They were young and much in love.
Harley stepped inside, and she closed the door.
"I think I shall kiss you," he said.
"Uncle James and Aunt Anna are in the next room."
"I don't want to kiss either Uncle James or Aunt Anna."