When at last she steadied herself, he was again anchored to the rose-colored tassel.
"You—you must forgive me—but—it has been so good to talk it out—to some one—who cared. I had never dreamed until that night in the Toy Shop of anybody—like you. Of anybody so—adorable. When your note came this morning, I couldn't believe it. But now I know it is true. And that night of Cinderella you were so—heavenly."
It was a good thing that Miss Emily came in at that moment—for his eloquence was a burning flood, and Jean was swept up and on with it.
The entrance of Emily, strictly tailored and practical, gave them pause.
"You remember Mr. Drake, don't you, Emily?"
Emily did, of course. But she had not expected to see him here. She held out her hand. "I remember that he was coming back for more of your Lovely Dreams."
"I want all of her dreams," said Derry, and something in the way that he said it took Miss Emily's breath away. "Please don't sell them to anyone else. You have a wholesale order from me."
Miss Emily looked from one to the other. She was conscious of something which touched the stars—something which all her life she had missed, something which belongs to youth and ecstasy.
"Wholesale orders are not in my line," she said. "You can settle that with Jean."
She surveyed the tea-wagon. "I'm starved. And if I eat I shall spoil my dinner."