Bob did, walking as in a dream among the dingy workmen who paused as the vision passed. For a long time they talked—just plain ordinary talk. Then he told her how he was inventing something else and Miss Gerald listened while all differences seemed magically to have dropped between them. Drinking deep of the joy of the moment, Bob yielded to the unadulterated happiness that went with being near her. He forgot all about the long future when he would see her no more. Finally Miss Gerald got up to go. They had returned to Bob’s office and she had seated herself in a shabby old chair. Bob’s face fell. His heart had been beating fast and the old light had come to his eyes. “Going?” he said awkwardly. “Yes.” She put out her hand and Bob took it, looking into her eyes. Then—he never knew how it happened—he had her in his arms. Bang! bang! went Bob’s hammers below and they seemed to be competing with the beating of his heart. At length the girl stirred slightly. She was wonderful in her proud compliance to Bob’s somewhat chaotic and over-powering expression of his emotions. “I suffered, too, a little, perhaps,” she said. That nearly completed Bob’s undoing. “You! you!” he said, holding her from him and regarding her face eagerly, devouringly. “Yes,” the proud lips curled a little, “I haven’t really a heart of stone, you know.” Then Bob became chaotic once more for it was as if heaven had been hurled at him. He spoke burning words of truth and this time they did not get him into trouble. She drank them all in, too. Then he began to ask questions in that same chaotic manner. He was so masterful she had to answer. “Yes, yes,” she said, “of course, I do.” “When did it begin?” “A long, long time ago.” “You have loved me a long time?” he exulted and drew a deep breath. “A moment ago I was pondering on the problems of life and wondering what was the use of it all? Now—” He paused. “Now?” said the girl and her eyes were direct and clear. The love light in them—for it was that—shone as the light of stars. Bob threw out his arms. “Life is great,” he said. A moment they stood apart and looked at each other. “It can’t be,” said Bob. “It is too much to believe. I certainly must prove it once more.” “One moment,” said Miss Gerald. “Dolly told me you kissed her.” “I did.” “Why, if as you say, it was only I—?” Bob was silent. “Did—did she ask you to?” Bob did not answer. “You don’t answer?” The violet eyes studied him discerningly. “All I can say is I did kiss her.” He would not betray jolly little pal. The violet eyes looked satisfied. “You have answered,” she said. “I think I understand the situation thoroughly.” Bob impetuously wanted to demonstrate once more that she was really she—that it wasn’t a dream—but she held him back and looked into his eyes. “You’ve said a good many things,” said Miss Gerald. “But there’s one you haven’t.” “What?” “It’s one you really ought to ask, after all this demonstration.”