"Evening."
"No, morning."
"All right Leo—tomorrow morning—"
"I'll sit up all night and count every second in every minute and every minute in every hour."
She put up her soft little fingers to his lips.
"Dear boy," she said.
And then they kissed and after a little swoon to his nearness she struggled like a caught bird and a guilty one.
"Please go, Leo," she said, "leave me alone—"
"Little mama-baby sweetheart," he said. "I'll build you a nest right next to hers. Good night, little White Flower. I'll be waiting, and remember, counting every second of every minute and every minute of every hour."
For a long time she remained where he had left her, forward on the pink divan, her head with a listening look to it, as if waiting an answer for the prayers that she sent up.