Something sweet and strange and grateful flashed hot in her
blood; the glow of it amazed and bewildered her.
"Oh, David," she murmured timorously.
"My little Christine," he breathed, laying his hand upon hers. She
sighed; her red lips parted in the soft, luxurious ecstasy of
discovery; she breathed of a curiously light and buoyant atmosphere;
she was walking on air. Little bells tinkled softly, but she knew not
whence came the mysterious sound.
An amazing contentment came over them. They were very young, and the
malady that had revealed itself so painlessly was an old one--as old
as the world itself. Their hearts sang, but their lips were mute; they
were drunk with wonder.
They lagged behind. Far ahead hurried the others, driven to haste by
low rumbles of thunder and the warning splashes of raindrops. The
drizzle of the gray, lowering afternoon had ceased, but in its place
came ominous skies and crooning winds. Back on the circus lot men were
working frantically to complete the task of loading before the storm
broke over them. Everywhere people were scurrying to shelter. David
and Christine loitered on the way, with delicious disdain for all the
things of earth or sky.
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