"I was afraid so. It was too much to ask. But I had to take my chance. Don't be distressed, dear. I am happy, loving you. You can't deny me that! I've loved you ever since I found you mending my shirt. I have had a beautiful time loving you, and it will keep right on. But I was crazy, wasn't I, to think--of course you 'couldn't sometime.'" "Because I love you now," she said steadily. "I have--I have just found it out!" The gently stroking hand ceased its work. John Bradford caught the sweet face between his great palms and turned it upward to his. "Dear!" he cried. He was a boy, she a girl. Love has no age. It swept over them, a young sweet tide. This man--this woman. There was no one else in the world then. "Dear!" she whispered, matching her love-word to his, "and I never knew till a minute ago!" "I always knew. The shirt had no part in it! I have loved you since the world began and the morning stars sang! You were made for me to love; all these years I have been waiting for you, dear." "All these years!" she repeated a little sadly--"that reminds us. But we are not old! I won't be--I won't have you be! What is time, anyway?" "Nothing!" He blew it away in a whiff of scorn. "What is anything but that I love you and you love me? We are just born now--this is our birthday! May I kiss you on your birthday, dear? Will you kiss me on mine?" The clock must have stopped in very astonishment at this scandal of grown love playing young love. At any rate, there was only the sound of the young love in the room. The room sang with the beautiful sound of it. It seemed a very long time afterward that John Bradford asked his man-question: "When?" "When your book is written--the love story. Not till then." "It's getting on beautifully!" he pleaded. "It never will be done. There's going to be no end to the chapters." "Mercy gracious! Where are you now?" "The heroine has just said yes. The hero has just kissed her--he is just going to kiss her ag--" "Mercy--mercy gracious!" Miss Theodosia's fair cheeks flooded pink. She held up a staying hand. "Wait--till I get--get used to being a heroine! Am I? Was _that_ the love story?" "That was the love story. I have been working on it every day. Some days I had set-backs--when the heroine flung things in my face about reformed doctors, and times like that." "She took them back again, those things. She was a kind sort of a heroine." "She was a dear. He wanted to kiss her when she took them back, those things. I had all _I_ could do to keep him from it. He was a tough sort of a hero to work with. I had my hands full." "Did you love--did the hero love the heroine when they sat drinking cups of tea?" "A little harder every cup." "When they nursed the measles?" "A little more every measle."