“You beautiful, wonderful girl!” he was breathing, close to her ear. (He was never to forget this.) “How can you hide your feelings from me? Can't you see it's just driving me mad?.... You're adorable! You're exquisite! You thrill me so--just your voice; the way you walk--your hands--your hair!.... Can't you understand, dear, it isn't what they call 'love.'” (This with a divine contempt.) “It's the cry of my whole being. I want to give you my life. I want to know _your_ life--study it--come to understand the wonderful people that has made you possible! I'm going to study it--history, art, everything!.... I worship you! I dream so of you--all the time--daytimes! I just half-close my eyes and then, right away, I can see you, walking. And I see you as you were at the dance on the boat.” He choked a little; then rushed on. “And in those dreams I always take you in my arms--No, let me say it! The angels are singing it, the wonderful truth!--I take you in my arms and kiss your hair and your eyes. You always close your eyes--oh, so slowly--and I press my lips on the lids. And your arms are around my neck. I can feel your hands. But I never kiss your lips--not in those dreams. Because that will mean that you have given me your soul, and I always know I must wait for that.... “Please! You must listen! Can't you see I'm just tearing my heart out and putting it in your hands--under your feet? There isn't any other life for me. I can't live without you. I could give up my friends, my home, my country, and be happy just serving you.” He had captured her hand; had it tight in his two hands and was kissing it tenderly. The thrill was unbelievable now. It was ecstasy. He could hear himself murmuring over and over, “You're so exquisite! So thrilling! I love the way your hair lies over your forehead. I love your eyes, especially when you smile”.... On and on. The tired sad girl in the steamer chair could not fail to respond in some measure, in every sensitive nerve, to so ardent a wooing. Even when she rose, and struggled a little to withdraw her hand, she couldn't be angry. He was surprising; in his very boyishness, compelling.