It was so dark in the coach I didn't know how you looked, and I didn't care; I was so glad to get hold of you.

But when your cloak slipped from your shoulders and you--Oh!--you darling Kate!" His eye caught the round of her throat and the taper of her lovely arm--"I am going to kiss you right here--I will--I don't care who--" She threw up her hands with a little laugh.

She liked him the better for daring, although she was afraid to yield.
"No--NO--Harry! They will see us--don't--you mustn't!" "Mustn't what! I tell you, Kate, I am going to kiss you--I don't care what you say or who sees me.

It's been a year since I kissed you in the coach--forty years--now, you precious Kate, what difference does it make?
I will, I tell you--no--don't turn your head away." She was struggling feebly, her elbow across her face as a shield, meaning all the time to raise her lips to his, when her eyes fell on the figure of a young man making his way toward them.

Instantly her back straightened.
"There's Langdon Willits at the bottom of the stairs talking to Mark Gilbert," she whispered in dismay.