She appeared. The blessed damosel leaned out. About her yearning face the long dark hair abundantly fell; her pretty bed-gown, unbuttoned low, gave him glimpse of snowy bosom, beautifully rounded. “Oh, Bill!” she cried, stretching her arms. Then, glancing downwards at her person, she stepped back swiftly. Reappearing, the soft round of her twin breasts was not to view. She had buttoned up her night-dress. “Oh, Bill!” “Oh, Margaret!” “_Wow!_” spoke Abiram in nerve-shattering welcome. “_Wow!_” The blessed damosel fled. Bill plunged a kick. Abiram took the skirt of it; waddled away across the lawn, his waving stern expressing pleasure at having at once shown his politeness by bidding a lady good evening, and at being, like true gentleman, well able to take a hint. Bill put upon the breeze: “It's all right. He's gone.” No answer. Shuddering with terror lest that hideous _wow!_ had disturbed the house the blessed damosel lay trembling abed, the coverings pressed about her straining ears. “He's gone,” Bill strained again, his larynx torn with the rasp of whispers that must penetrate like shouts and yet speed soft-shod. “He's gone!” Margaret put a white leg to the ground--listened; drew forth its companion--listened; glimpsed her white legs; shuddered at such immodesty with a man so close; veiled them to their toes with her bed-gown; listened; stepped again to the window. “Oh, Bill!” “Oh, Margaret!” “Has anyone heard, do you think?” “My darling, not a soul. It sounded loud to us. Oh, Margaret--” “Hush! Yes?” “Do you know why I am come?” “Hush!--no.” “I thought--from your note--that you didn't care to see me again. I thought-being away like that--that you found you didn't-love me after all. Oh, I was tortured, Margaret. Oh--!” “Hush! Listen!” “Damn!” said Bill. The blessed damosel poked her beautiful head again into the night. “It's all right. I thought I heard a sound. We must be careful.” “Oh, Margaret, I was tortured--racked. I had to come to you. Tell me I was wrong in thinking--” “Oh, Bill, Bill, I--” This girl was well-nigh in a swoon of delicious excitement. Emotion took her and must be gulped ere she found voice. She stretched her arms down towards him. “Oh, Bill, I thought so, too.” A steely pang struck at his heart. “You thought you didn't love me after all?” “No, no, no.” Emotion dragged her from the window to her waist. Her long hair cascaded down to him so that the delicious tips, kissing his face, might by his lips be kissed. “No, no,” she breathed; “I thought the same of you. I thought you might have found--” “Yes?” “Hush!” “Damn!” said Bill. She reappeared; again her tresses trickled to him. “It's all right. I thought you might have found you didn't love me after all. Dearest, not hearing from you--” In sympathy of spirit Bill groaned: “What could I do?”