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The man laughed.

“You know I’ve been mad about you for just one year.”

Eve sighed very happily.

“And I’m quite silly about you,” she said. “I started dreaming about you months ago. But I think up to now I’ve behaved all right, haven’t I?”

“Perfectly,” said Broke.

Eve squeezed his arm.

“I’m glad of that. And now suppose you kissed me. Or d’you think I ought to kiss you?”

Suddenly she was in his arms, blushing and breathless.

“You witch,” breathed the man. “You exquisite, glorious witch. I’ve steeled myself and fought a thousand times. And to-night I swore I’d see you—and kiss the rod. ‘Rod’? Sword. It’s been like a sword in my side to wait upon you. To-night was laden with memories, but I swore to come through. I swore I’d recall them ... and bow ... and come away—walk through the wet streets triumphant, because I’d flirted with fire and not been burned. And now—I’ve failed.” He lifted up his eyes with the look of one who is looking into heaven. “I shan’t walk home, Eve. By rights I should slink, because I’ve broken my oath. But—I—shan’t—slink. I think I shall dance, Eve ... dance, leap, run ... give silver to the beggars I meet ... shout ... because you love me ... because of the stars in your eyes and the flower they call your mouth.” Eve flung back her beautiful head and closed her eyes. The smile on her parted lips was not of this world. “You ask if I love you. I love the lisp of your footfalls and the print of your tiny feet. I love the rustle of your gown and the silence your laughter breaks. All that you do I love—because you do it ... you ... Eve ... my princess....”