How long have you been waiting, my precious ?" Her hand was on his shoulder now, her eyes raised to his.
"Oh, 'bout a year.

It really seems like a year, Luce" (his pet name for her), "when I'm waiting for you.

I was sure something was up.

Wait till I open the door." The two turned toward the house.
"Why! can we get in?
I thought Fogarty, the fisherman, had the key," she asked, with a tone of pleasant surprise in her voice.
"So he has," he laughed.

"Got it now hanging up behind his clock.