"I did not. Considering all things, I don't think you ought to be angry, darling!"
"I am not. But I sha'n't go to the Temperance Hotel!"
He laughed. "Never mind," he said. "So that I am near you, I am comparatively happy. It is more than this earthly wretch called Me deserves—you spirit, you disembodied creature, you dear, sweet, tantalizing phantom—hardly flesh at all; so that when I put my arms round you, I almost expect them to pass through you as through air! Forgive me for being gross, as you call it! Remember that our calling cousins when really strangers was a snare. The enmity of our parents gave a piquancy to you in my eyes that was intenser even than the novelty of ordinary new acquaintance."
"Say those pretty lines, then, from Shelley's 'Epipsychidion' as if they meant me," she solicited, slanting up closer to him as they stood. "Don't you know them?"
"I know hardly any poetry," he replied, mournfully.
"Don't you? These are some of them:
"'There was a Being whom my spirit oft
Met on its visioned wanderings far aloft.••••••••A seraph of Heaven, too gentle to be human.
Veiling beneath that radiant form of woman...'"
"Oh, it is too flattering, so I won't go on! But say it's me!-say it's me!"
"It is you, dear; exactly like you!"
"Now I forgive you! And you shall kiss me just once there—not very long." She put the tip of her finger gingerly to her cheek, and he did as commanded. "You do care for me very much, don't you, in spite of my not—you know?"
"Yes, sweet!" he said, with a sigh, and bade her good-night.
