"You cannot have it, sir," she said, sternly.
"Women are enveloped in mystery," he continued, quite unrebuked, "yards of it. If there is anything I love, it is mystery, so I 'll keep this for myself."
"Why?"
"For a souvenir. Think of the memories associated with it, Bessie."
"What good will it be to you?" she asked, rather more pleasantly.
"It would be a great success as a necktie," Moore went on, draping it beneath his chin. "Thusly, for instance, or I might wear it on my arm, or next my heart."
"Give me that ruffle," cried Bessie, snatching at it as she spoke, and by good luck catching it.
"Let go," commanded Moore. "If you don't I 'll kiss your hands for you."
"Oh, no, you won't."
But he did.