Dennison nodded.
She knitted her forehead over a column of figures. Dennison leaned his face so close that his blond-bearded cheek touched hers. She made a little impatient motion.
“Oh, go long, Jim Dennison,” she said, but her tone was half-hearted.
Dennison persisted, bending her head gently backward until he kissed her. She pushed him away, but she smiled weakly.
“You didn't want Ed Flynn. Why, he's a Roman Catholic, and you're Baptist, Nell,” he said.
“Who said I did?” she retorted, angrily. “Why, I wouldn't marry Ed Flynn if he was the last man in the world.”
“You'd 'nough sight better marry me,” said Dennison.
“Go along; you're fooling.”
“No, I ain't. I mean it, honest.”
“I don't want to marry anybody yet awhile,” said Nellie Stone; but when Dennison kissed her again she did not repulse him, and even nestled her head with a little caressing motion into the hollow of his shoulder.