“And she isn't your sweetheart at all? Never was?”
“I don't reckon she ever was. Neill took that picture himself. We were laughing, because I had just been guying them about how quick they got engaged. She was saying I'd be engaged myself before six months. And I am. Ain't I?”
She came to him slowly—first, the little outstretched hands, and then the soft, supple, resilient body. Slowly, too, her sweet reluctant lips came round to meet his.
“Yes, Steve, I'm yours. I think I always have been, even before I knew you.”
“Even when you hated me?” he asked presently.
“Most of all, when I hated you,” She laughed happily. “That was just another way of love.”
“We'll have fifty years to find out all the different ways,” the man promised.
“Fifty years. Oh, Steve!”
She gave a happy little sigh, and nestled closer.