She came nearer, and asked, ‘Will you tie it for me, please?’
As there was no help for it, he nerved himself and assented. As her head only reached to his fourth button she necessarily looked up for his convenience, and John began fumbling at the bow. Try as he would it was impossible to touch the ribbon without getting his finger tips mixed with the curls of her forehead.
‘Your hand shakes—ah! you have been walking fast,’ she said.
‘Yes—yes.’
‘Have you almost done it?’ She inquiringly directed her gaze upward through his fingers.
‘No—not yet,’ he faltered in a warm sweat of emotion, his heart going like a flail.
‘Then be quick, please.’
‘Yes, I will, Miss Garland! B-B-Bob is a very good fel—’
‘Not that man’s name to me!’ she interrupted.
John was silent instantly, and nothing was to be heard but the rustling of the ribbon; till his hands once more blundered among the curls, and then touched her forehead.