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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Rose in the Ring"

He held her! This
beautiful, warm, alive creature belonged to him!
"Are you afraid,--dearest?" he called, his lips close to her ear.
"Not a bit, David," she cried rapturously. "I love it. Isn't it
wonderful?"
She turned her head on his shoulder. His lips swept her cheek. Before
either of them knew what had happened their lips met--a frightened,
hasty, timorous kiss that was not even prophetic of the joys that were
to grow out of it.
"Oh, David, you must not do that!" cried the very maiden in her.
"Has any one ever kissed you before?" he demanded, fiercely jealous on
a sudden.
She drew back, hurt, aghast.
"Why, David!" she cried.
He mumbled an apology.
"Christine," he announced resolutely, "I am going to marry you when
you are old enough."
She gasped. "But, David--" she began, tremulous with doubt and
perplexity.
"I know," he said as she hesitated; "you are afraid I'll not be
cleared of this charge. But I am sure to be--as sure as there is a
God. Then, when you are nineteen or twenty, I mean to ask you to be my
wife. You are my sweetheart now--oh, my dearest sweet-heart!
Christine, you won't let any one else come in and take my place?
You'll be just as you are now until we are older and--"
"Wait, David! Let me think.


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