“That's ridiculous,” Floyd laughed. “Simply ridiculous.”
“I know—I saw it in her face when you said you were going home with me. She could have bitten my head off.”
“Good gracious, I've never talked with her more than two or three times in all my life.”
“That may be, but she has heard dozens of people say it will be just the thing for you to marry her, and she has wondered—” Cynthia stopped.
“Look here, little woman, we've had enough of this,” Floyd said, abruptly. “I saw the light in your room the other night, and I stood and whistled and whistled, but you wouldn't come to me. I had a lot to tell you.”
“I told you I'd never meet you that way again, and I meant it.” Cynthia was looking straight into his eyes. .
“I know you did, but I thought you might relent. I was chock full of my new discovery—or rather Pole Baker's—and I wanted to pour it out on you.”
“Of course, you are happy over it?” Cynthia said, tentatively.
“It has been the one great experience of my life,” said Floyd, impressively. “No one who has not been through it, Cynthia, can have any idea of what it means. It is on my mind at night when I go to bed; it is in my dreams; it is in my thoughts when I get up.”
“I wanted to know about your mother,” ventured the girl, reverently. “What was she like?”