The Smile.
“My own Velvetina!”
“Sep, my pet!”
“Can it really be?”
“Even so.”
A silence, during which a pair of tangled eyelashes are dim with humid dew. Then—
“Did you meet daddy on the cliff, pet?”
He turned ashy white, even in the darkness, and recoiled several yards at the unexpected inquiry.
“Where?” at last he gasped, prevaricatingly.
“Then you saw him not!” cried she, “and he is out alone on this wild night; and only his thin socks on.”