For an instant, as she rested in his arms, she was stabbed through and through by the memory of those other arms that had held her as in a vice of steel, and of stormy, passionate kisses in comparison with Tim's impulsive caress, half-shy, half-reverent, seemed like clear water beside the glowing fire of red wine.
She drew herself sharply out of his embrace.

Would she never forget--would she be for ever remembering, comparing?
If so, God help her! "No," she said quietly.

"You needn't pull a long face over it.

But--but marriage is a serious thing, Tim, after all." "My dear"-- he spoke with a sudden gentle gravity--"don't misunderstand me.

Marriage with you is the most serious and wonderful and glorious thing that could ever happen to a man.