“I don’t need to,” she said with a little, soft laugh, “I know it by heart. ‘Had I the courage I would ask for a parley, but, alas! I am already wavering along my entire line; I can only put up a brave front and rely upon awing her. She is delicious, simply delicious. Her eyes——’ What about my eyes? You stopped there.”
“Your eyes? Your eyes—your eyes——” He paused, at a loss for words. She sighed dolefully.
“There, you’ve stopped again! I reckon I’ll never know,” she mourned.
He took her hands and turned her about until the light of the stars was full upon her face.
“Your eyes, Kitty—ah, I’ll spend my life, sweetheart, telling you about your eyes!” They dropped before his own ardent ones. “Was it—was it then, Kitty?” he whispered.
“What?” she murmured.
“That you cared for me?”
“I—I think so!”
With sudden shyness she broke from his clasp and went forward up the path. When he caught up with her she was bending with her face almost buried in a great cup-like rose. He stooped and placed his cheek against hers and their hands met and caught.