"You have never imagined yourself in love before, Ann?" he asked, after a little silence which he beguiled by raising each finger-tip of my left hand to his lips.
"No."
"I thought not. A woman doesn't kiss like that but once."
"—And a man?"
"I've told you that I have never cared for any other woman. That's what makes me feel such an utter fool now! To think that, at my age, I should have let a passion take such possession of me—before I knew whether or not there was the slightest chance of its being returned!"
"Oh, love, how humble the little god makes us! When all along you have been King Richard to me."
"Well, there was never a king who found so worthy a queen-consort. When are you going to marry me, Ann?"
We had strayed off the heights a little and I was taking a much-needed breathing spell in the less rarified air, when he sent my senses reeling again at the question. Married! To this regal creature, who is so splendid in mind, body and spirit! And he was asking me to marry him, me—simple Ann Fielding, a dreamer of dreams, who had never dreamed one half so radiant as this blessed reality! To live with him always! "The desire of the moth for the star," oh, joy, the moth was going to reach the star this time! Greater joy! the star was reaching out just as longingly for the moth, and calling the tiny creature another, an infinitely brighter star!
"I hardly expected you to be in such a hurry about marrying," I finally answered, after he had repeated the question. "I have heard you say such cynical things about the holy estate—when you thought I wasn't listening. One time you said you thought passion consisted largely of not knowing what a woman looks like before breakfast."
"Sweetheart," and his eyes were very serious, "I am sorry for every light word I have ever spoken about marriage—since you have honored me so." Then teasingly he continued after a moment, "The thing I desire most on earth just now is to know what you look like before breakfast, sweet Mistress Ann."