Laurence went to help the Judge up the steps. He sank heavily into a chair, keeping hold of Nora's hand, panting.
"Isn't she pretty now?... I like her red hair. I wish I was a young fellow, I'd make up to her.... She'd keep me laughing...."
Nora blushed, laughed, wrested her hand away and ran indoors. Laurence lounged for a moment against the door, and then went in too. He had to go to the office, and went upstairs to fill his cigar-case. Passing the open door of the children's room, he saw Nora, with a candle, bending to arrange a tossed coverlet. He stood looking at her. The candle-flame lit up her shining hair, her red lips and tender eyes. She came out softly, and as she passed him, smiling, Laurence, put his arm around her, drew her close.
"No!" she protested in a whisper.
"Yes!"
He felt her tremble in his clasp, felt her frightened, wishing to resist, unable, felt the emotion that shook her at his touch. He bent his head, kissed her on the mouth.