And he bolted a section of frosting and began to chew vigorously upon another, while she slipped both hands into his, regarding him with tender solicitude.
"Have no fears for me, dearest," he said indistinctly; "fortified by months of pie I dread no food ever prepared by youth and beauty. Even the secret dishes of the Medici——"
"John!"
"W-what, darling?"
"After all—I don't cook so badly."
So, in the gloaming, he swallowed the last crumb and gathered her into his strong young arms, and drew her golden head down close to his.
"Take it from me," he whispered, relapsing into the noble idioms of his adopted country, "you're all to the mustard, Diana; your eats were bully and I liked 'em fine!"
