His transports would leave her refreshed apparently, prettier, more graceful than ever, it seemed to him, putting back her ruffled hair with her hand, mouthing at herself prettily in the glass, thinking of many remote delicious things at once.
"Do you remember that picture we saw in the art store the other day, Algernon ?" she would drawl, calling him by his second name, which she had adopted for herself as being more suited to his moods when with her and more pleasing to her.

Cowperwood had protested, but she held to it.

"Do you remember that lovely blue of the old man's coat ?" (It was an "Adoration of the Magi.") "Wasn't that be-yoot-i-ful ?" She drawled so sweetly and fixed her mouth in such an odd way that he was impelled to kiss her.

"You clover blossom," he would say to her, coming over and taking her by the arms.

"You sprig of cherry bloom.
You Dresden china dream." "Now, are you going to muss my hair, when I've just managed to fix it ?" The voice was the voice of careless, genial innocence--and the eyes.
"Yes, I am, minx." "Yes, but you mustn't smother me, you know.