“I like to hear these pure ideals,” said Anthony. “It makes me feel my sacrifice has not been in vain.”
“Rot,” said Virginia calmly, “you’ll enjoy being a King. It’s in your blood, you know. You were brought up to the trade of Royalty, and you’ve got a natural aptitude for it, just like plumbers have a natural bent for plumbing.”
“I never think they have,” said Anthony. “But damn it all, don’t let’s waste time talking about plumbers. Do you know that at this very minute I’m supposed to be deep in conference with Isaacstein and old Lollipop? They want to talk about oil. Oil, my God! They can just await my kingly pleasure. Virginia, do you remember my telling you once that I’d have a damned good try to make you care for me?”
“I remember,” said Virginia softly. “But Superintendent Battle was looking out of the window.”
“Well, he isn’t now,” said Anthony.
He caught her suddenly to him, kissing her eyelids, her lips, the green gold of her hair. . . .
“I do love you so, Virginia,” he whispered. “I do love you so. Do you love me?”
He looked down at her—sure of the answer.
Her head rested against his shoulder, and very low, in a sweet shaken voice, she answered:
“Not a bit!”
“You little devil,” cried Anthony, kissing her again. “Now I know for certain that I shall love you until I die…”
230
