"Juliet," said I.
She looked up quickly with sparkling eyes and a frank smile that was yet a little shy, too.
"Yes."
"Why did he smile—that old gentleman—when he looked at us?"
"I can't imagine," she replied mendaciously.
"It was an approving smile," I said. "I think he was remembering his own spring-time and giving us his blessing."
"Perhaps he was," she agreed. "He looked a nice old thing." She gazed fondly at the retreating figure and then turned again to me. Her cheeks had grown pink enough by now, and in one of them a dimple displayed itself to great advantage in its rosy setting.
"Can you forgive me, dear, for my unutterable folly?" I asked presently, as she glanced up at me again.
"I am not sure," she answered. "It was dreadfully silly of you."
"But remember, Juliet, that I loved you with my whole heart—as I love you now and shall love you always."