"Alas, no! Yet, that soft-footed maid is knocking on your door.... If only you had heart to hear."
"One does not hear with one's heart," said I, smiling, and stirred to plague her for her mixed metaphor.
"I do," said she, faintly.
After a little silence she turned to go; and I followed, scarce knowing why; and took her hand in the doorway.
"Little prophetess," said I, "who promises me what my heart desires, will you touch your lips to mine as a pledge that your prophecy shall come true?"
She looked back over her shoulder, and remained so, her cheek on her right shoulder.
"Your heart desires a battle, John Drogue; your idle vanity my lips.... But you may possess them if you will."
"I do love you dearly, Penelope Grant."
She said with a breathless little smile:
"Would you love me better if my prophecy came true this very night?"