"
"Say it again, then."
"Betty, do you love me?"
"Ask: 'Betty, is the sun shining?'"
"It always shines about you."
"Because my hair is red?"
"Red? It is pure gold. Do you remember when I found that out on the hearth
in free Levi's cabin? The colour went to my head, but when I put out my
hand to touch a curl, you drew away and fastened them up again. Now I have
pulled them all down and you dare not move."
"Shall I tell you why I drew away?"
The tears were still on her lashes, but in the exaltation of a great
passion, life, death, the grave, and things beyond had dwindled like stars
before the rising sun.
"You told me then--because I was 'a pampered poodle dog.' Well, I've
outgrown that objection certainly. Let us hope you have a fancy for lean
hounds."
She put up her hands in protest.
"I drew away partly because I knew you did not love me," she said, meeting
his eyes with her clear and ardent gaze, "but more because--I knew that I
loved you."
"You loved me then? Oh, Betty, if I had only known!"
"If you had known!" She covered her face. "Oh, it was terrible enough as it
was. I wanted to beat myself for shame."
"Shame? In loving me, my darling?"
"In loving you like that."
"Nonsense. If you had only said to me: 'My good sir, I love you a little
bit,' I should have come to my senses on the spot. Even pampered poodle
dogs are not all fat, Betty, and, as it was, I did come to the years of
discretion that very night.
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