"You haven't let me say how happy I am that you are able to be up, or how grateful I am for this glimpse of you. It's always just glimpses." "Maybe it's better that way! But so much happens between our meetings; there was never anything like it in all the world. Never was an acquaintance so pursued by storms! I wonder where the blow will fall next?" "Not on your head," he answered decisively, "not if the Governor and I can prevent it. But let us not waste time on that; I want your assurance that you are really well." "Oh, perfectly; not an ache from the ducking; only this little reminder my hand will carry for a day or two; but that's nothing to worry about!" There was a restraint upon them, due perhaps to the calming influence of the stars, the murmurings of the shore in conference with the pines. "The things that have happened since we first met would make a large book," he said with an accession of courage, "but a separate volume would have to be written about your hands." She fell back at once upon her defenses. "Oh, are they as large as that!" "They are as dear as that!" "How absurd you are! Here we are with only a few minutes to talk; not more than ten--that's official from the doctor; and you're talking foolishness. If I were extremely sensitive I might imagine that my face was displeasing to you!" "The face is too remote, too sacred; I wouldn't dare let myself think about it. The hand encourages belief in our common humanity; but the face is divine, a true key to the soul. The hand we think of commonly as a utilitarian device of nature, and in your case we know it to be skilled in many gracious arts, but beyond its decorative values--" "Dear me! Just what are you quoting?" "Please suffer the rest of it! Your hands, I was about to say, not only awaken admiration by their grace and symmetry, but the sight of them does funny things to my heart." "That heart of yours! How did it ever manage to survive the strain and excitement of last night?" "Oh, it functioned splendidly. But it was at work in a good cause. Pray permit me to continue. Your hands are adorable; I am filled with tenderest longings to possess them. If I should touch them I might die, so furious would be my palpitations!" "The minutes fly and you are delivering an oration on the human hand, which in the early processes of evolution was only a claw. If you are not careful you'll be writing poetry next!" "The future tense does me an injustice. I've already committed the unpardonable rhyme! I never made a verse before in my life, and this hasn't been confided to paper. I thought it out at odd moments in my recent travels. The humming of the wheels on the sleeper coming up gave me the tune. If you will encourage me a little I think I can recite it. It needs smoothing out in spots, but it goes something like this: "I view with awe and wonder Her hands so slim and long,-- I must not make the blunder Of clasping them--in song!