He hesitated for perhaps the tenth part of a second,
if hesitation could be counted in that space. Then his arms closed
about her, and he kissed her. He felt the snuggle of her face against
his breast again, the crush and sweetness of her hair against his lips
and cheek. He kissed her again uninvited. Before he could stop the
habit, he had kissed her a third time.
Then her hands were at his face, and he saw again that look in her
eyes, a deep and anxious questioning behind the shimmer of love in
them, something mute and understanding and wonderfully sympathetic, a
mothering soul looking at him and praying as it looked. If his life had
paid the forfeit the next instant, he could not have helped kissing her
a fourth time.
If Mary Josephine had gone to bed with a doubt of his brotherly
interest last night, the doubt was removed now. Her cheeks flushed. Her
eyes shone. She was palpitantly, excitedly happy. "It's YOU, Derry,"
she cried. "Oh, it's you as you used to be!"
She seized his hand and drew him toward the table. Wallie thrust in his
head from the kitchenette, grinning, and Mary Josephine flashed him
back a meaning smile. Keith saw in an instant that Wallie had turned
from his heathen gods to the worship of something infinitely more
beautiful.
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