Did he think she was chaffing him, or coquettishly daring him, or what? It is certain he was in a reckless, flippant mood, and that swift glance of hers warmed his blood like wine. They were in the park now, driving under the shadow of some autumn-colored trees, and all in a flash his arm slipped round her waist, the brown head bent over the golden one.
Two faces bent—
Bent in a swift and daring dream,
An ecstasy of trembling bliss,
And sealed together in a kiss.
She did not struggle, sweet Jessie, against this bold caress, simply yielded to it with a delirious throb of joy, letting his lips drain the sweetness of hers unhindered, as a bee sips the sweets of the rose, her thrilling form resting quiescent against the arm that clasped her close to his heart. When he released her, neither spoke a word, Jessie sat very still, her form inclined slightly toward him, her eyes downcast and shining, her cheeks warmly flushed, her moist lips tremulous, her bosom heaving with emotion, a lovely picture of girlish tenderness on which the young man’s eyes rested with pleasure.
He touched up the sleek, black ponies with the whip, and directly they were borne into the thick of the crowd that made the beautiful drives a gay, changeful panorama of fine horses, smart turnouts, and magnificently dressed women.
Frank Laurier blent readily with the animated crowd, sitting erect with a very pale face, compressed lips, and eyes that glittered with a blue fire as he swept them eagerly and restlessly over the passing faces, returning salutations every moment or so, and seemingly almost forgetting the girl by his side in some secret, overmastering excitement.
As for her, if she could have thought of anything but that kiss and the bliss of his nearness, she would have begun to feel out of place in her cheap, simple dress there in the moving throng of richly garbed women, whose glances rested in wonder on the fair face and cheap attire of the girl by Laurier’s side. She did not, indeed, guess how different she looked from the others, or how very strange it was for a man in his position to run the gantlet of all those curious, surprised eyes—he, one of the fashionable four hundred, with that little working girl by his side.
If the innocent child gave a thought to the incongruity, she only felt it as a tribute of his regard for her.