"I'm in luck," he breathed deeply. "In golden luck to have you
look at me twice. Are you sure?"
"Sure. I loved you that first day I met you. I've loved you every
day since," she confessed simply.
Full on the lips he kissed her.
"Then we'll be married as soon as we reach the Rocking Chair."
"But you once said you didn't want to be my husband," she taunted
sweetly. "Don't you remember? In the days when we were gipsies."
"I've changed my mind. I want to, and I'm in a hurry."
She shook her head. "No, dear. We shall have to wait. It wouldn't
be fair to my mother to lose me just as soon as she finds me. It
is her right to get acquainted with me just as if I belonged to
her alone. You understand what I mean, Bucky. She must not feel
as if she never had found me, as if she never had been first with
me. We can love each other more simply if she doesn't know about
you. We'll have it for a secret for a month or two."
She put her little hand on his arm appealingly to win his
consent. His eyes rested on it curiously, Then he took it in his
big brown one and turned it palm up. Its delicacy and perfect
finish moved him, for it seemed to him that in the contrast
between the two hands he saw in miniature the difference of sex.
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