“Well, in any event we needn’t worry about it,” said Trenton with a shrug. She rose and drew up a low rocker and sat beside him, facing the fire.
“I’d like to have seen your letter,” said Grace, musingly.
“I told her you kissed me. Like a brave man I put the responsibility on you!”
“Oh, that wasn’t fair!” she cried hastily. “It would be sure to give her a bad impression of me.”
“I think I intimated that it was only such a kiss as a daughter might bestow upon a father she didn’t think so badly of! I shall always be glad that our first kiss was like that; we’ve traveled a long way since then.”
“Every step has been so dear,” she said contentedly. “I think I could never forget one single thing. I don’t believe I’ve forgotten a word you’ve ever said to me. And when you were away I lived our times all over again. And I like to imagine that we talk to each other by our own private wireless even when you are miles away. I think I can imagine just what you would say and how you would look when you said it. Oh,—” she bent forward quickly and grasped his hand in both of hers; her lips quivered and there was a mist in her eyes. “Oh!—I wish I didn’t love you so much!”
“Has it occurred to you,” he asked, “that we’re alone away out here in the woods?”
“I don’t feel a bit lonesome; I’d never be afraid anywhere with you!”
The fire had burned low and she watched admiringly his manner of replenishing it. He used the shovel to push back the ashes and bring the embers together in a neat bed, in the center of which he dropped a fresh log with calculated accuracy. It was his scientific mind, she reflected, habituated to careful planning even in unimportant things. He stood for a moment inspecting his work; moved the log a trifle; watched attentively the effect of the change, and as the dry loose bark broke into flame brushed the hearth neatly and smiled into her eyes as he found her at his side.
“You do everything just right! I love to see you use your hands,” she said. “They’re so strong and skillful.”