Many a
time he longed to press his lips to the white arm, to kiss the warm
curve of her neck where soft curls clustered. But he did none of these
things. By a gentle reserve the girl kept him at his distance, and
although there was only Jezebel to see, he did not transgress the
bounds Delight's sweet womanliness reared between them. Of course she
knew he loved her. She could not but know. Even Jezebel from her
round blue eyes proclaimed a complete understanding of the romance and
drawing herself into a fluffy ball in Willie's great chair feigned
sleep that she might not embarrass the lovers. The canary knew, and so
did the impertinent crimson rambler that clambered up the window frame
and spied in through the pane. It was no secret. The whole dazzling
world shared in the exquisite mystery.
Were the tale to have been put into words half its delicate beauty
would have been shattered. It was now a thing of clouds, of perfume,
of sunshine. The waves whispered together of it; the birds trilled the
story. A glance, a half-uttered sentence, the meeting of hands carried
with them great throbbing reaches of emotion that went to make up the
reality of the ephemeral drama.
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