" "Impossible, dear Mrs. ” “It might become one,” he answered. ” The conversation hung. ’ He regarded her thoughtfully. His arms slipped around her waist as they were on the doorstep and he kissed her lips sweetly. I wanted the magic of love. Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution. I do not care in the least. He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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