"I knew it," she breathed; "I only wanted to hear you say it again.... I don't know why I'm crying;--do you?... What a perfect ninny a girl can be when she tries to.... _All_ over your 'collar, too.... And now you're what Mr. Mantalini would call 'demned moist and unpleasant!' ... I--I don't want to--s-sob--this way! I do-don't wish to ... M-make me stop, Louis!... I'd like a handkerchief--anything--give me Gladys and I'll staunch my tears on her!" She slipped from the bed's edge to the floor, and stood with her back toward him. Then she glanced sideways at the mirror to inspect her nose. "Thank goodness _that_ isn't red," she said gaily.... "Kelly, I'm hungry.... I've fasted since dawn--on this day--because I wanted to break bread with you on the first day of our new life together." He looked at her, appalled, but she laughed and went into the studio. There was a beautiful old sideboard there always well stocked. He turned on the lights, brought peaches and melons and strawberries and milk from the ice-chest, and found her already preparing chocolate over the electric grill and buttering immense slices of peasant bread. "It's after two o'clock," she said, delighted. "Isn't this divinely silly? I wonder if there happens to be any salad in the ice-chest?" "Cold chicken, too," he nodded, watching her set the table. She glanced at him over her shoulder from time to time: "Louis, are you going to enjoy all this? _All of_ it? You--somehow--don't look entirely happy--" "I am.... All I wanted was to see you--hear your voice.... I shall be contented now." "With just a view of me, and the sound of my voice?" "You know there is--nothing more for us." "I know nothing of the kind. The idea! And don't you dare struggle and kick and scream when I kiss you. Do you hear me, Louis?" He laughed and watched her as she went swiftly and gracefully about the table arrangement, glancing up at him from moment to moment. "The idea," she repeated, indignantly. "I guess I'll kiss you when I choose to. You are not in holy orders, are you? You haven't made any particular vows, have you--?" "One." She halted, looked at him, then went on with her labours, a delicate colour flushing face and neck. "Where in the world is that salad, Louis? A hungry girl asks you! Don't drive me to desperation--" "Are we going to have coffee?" "No, it will keep us awake all night! I believe you _are_ bent on my destruction." And, as she hovered over the table, she hummed the latest popular summer-roof ballad: "'Stand back! Go 'way! I can no longer stay Although you are a Marquis or a Earl! You may tempt the upper classes With your villainous demi-tasses But-- Heaven will protect the Working Girl!'" At length everything was ready. He had placed two chairs opposite one another, but she wouldn't have it, and made him lug up a bench, lay a cushion on it, and sit beside her.