The girl grew pale and trembled; but when she looked up shyly and sweetly into his ardent eyes there was no need for words. With a happy sigh she threw her arms around his neck, and their lips met for the first time.
No one was ever so near heaven before as the happy pair which New Year’s found in dingy, stuffy old Suite Four.
OUR WINTER BIRDS.
OUR WINTER BIRDS.
Robert A. Campbell.
{Illustrations by H. M. Chase and H. H. Gibson.}
“Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year.”
