'I began to have the same sort of feeling myself, and then I was so tired of waiting. How long have I wanted you, Audrey?—ten or twelve years, at least. I begin to think that there never was such a fellow for constancy.'
'Ten or twelve years! What can you mean, Michael?'
But she knew well enough what he meant, only she was woman enough to love to hear him say it.
'Oh, it was quite twelve years ago! I can remember the occasion quite well. You were in a short white frock, and you had your hair streaming over your shoulders. You were such a pretty little girl, Audrey. I admired you far more than I admired Gage, with all her regular features.'
'Oh, what nonsense, Michael!'
'Nonsense! You will tell me next that you do not remember asking me to give you a kiss. "I want to kiss you, Mike, because you are so nice and smart." Do you think I shall ever forget that? I lost my heart to you then.'
'You must not expect me to remember those things,' she returned, blushing like a rose.
'No, darling, I suppose not; you were only a child then. But, all the same, these memories are very sweet to me. You have been my one and only love, and you know that now.'
'Oh, Michael!' And now the gray eyes filled with tears, for these words sounded like a reproach to her.
'You must not misunderstand me,' he returned, shocked at her evident misconception of his words. 'Do you think that I begrudge the love you gave that poor fellow? Some day, when you are my wife, I will tell you all I think on this subject; but not now—not to-night, of all nights, when I know and feel for the first time that my treasure is in my own keeping.'