"How many more! You _are_ a one!" Emmy was not pliant enough. In her voice there was the faintest touch of--something that was not self-consciousness, that was perhaps a sense of failure. Perhaps she was back again suddenly into her maturity, finding it somehow ridiculous to be kissed and to kiss with such abandon. Alf was not baffled, however. As she withdrew he advanced, so that his knuckle rubbed against the brick wall to which Emmy had retreated. "I say," he cried sharply. "Here's the wall." "Hurt yourself?" Emmy quickly caught his hand and raised it, examining the knuckle. The skin might have been roughened; but no blood was drawn. Painfully, exultingly, her dream realised, she pressed her cheek against the back of his hand. ix "What's that for?" demanded Alf. "Nothing. Never you mind. I wanted to do it." Emmy's cheeks were hot as she spoke; but Alf marvelled at the action, and at her confession of such an impulse. "How long had you ... wanted to do it?" "Mind your own business. The idea! Don't you know better than that?" Emmy asked. It made him chuckle delightedly to have such a retort from her. And it stimulated his curiosity. "I believe you're a bit fond of me," he said. "I don't see why. There's nothing about me to write home about, I shouldn't think. But there it is: love's a wonderful thing." "Is it?" asked Emma, distantly. Why couldn't he say he loved her? Too proud, was he? Or was he shy? He had only used the word "love" once, and that was in this general sense--as though there _was_ such a thing. Emmy was shy of the word, too; but not as shy as that. She was for a moment anxious, because she wanted him to say the word, or some equivalent. If it was not said, she was dependent upon his charity later, and would cry sleeplessly at night for want of sureness of him. "D'you love me?" she suddenly said. Alf whistled. He seemed for that instant to be quite taken aback by her inquiry. "There's no harm in me asking, I suppose." Into Emmy's voice there came a thread of roughness. "No harm at all," Alf politely said. "Not at all." He continued to hesitate. "Well?" Emmy waited, still in his arms, her ears alert. "We're engaged, aren't we?" Alf muttered shamefacedly. "Erum ... what sort of ring would you like? I don't say you'll get it ... and it's too late to go and choose one to-night." Emmy flushed again: he felt her tremble. "You _are_ in a hurry," she said, too much moved for her archness to take effect. "Yes, I am." Alf's quick answer was reassuring enough. Emmy's heart was eased. She drew him nearer with her arms about his neck, and they kissed again. "I wish you'd say you love me," she whispered. "Mean such a lot to me." "No!" cried Alf incredulously. "Really?" "Do you?" "I'll think about it. Do you--me?" "Yes. I don't mind saying it if you will."