"There is no one in my life I love so well." "And it will last ?" Disturbed she glanced at him, her eyes dark with rebuke.
"Until the judgment day!" persisted Kenny.
"Kenny," she said, "why do you speak so strangely.

Love is love, isn't it?
And if you who have known all things love me, how much more must I who have lived so much alone, love and cling to you ?" He kissed her hair and pressed his cheek against it where the shadows were soft and golden.
"I want you, heart of mine," he said steadily, "to love me in this wonderful way that I love you.

There are ways and ways of loving." That, in her girlhood dream of love, she could not see.

And Kenny was passionately glad that his words were a riddle.
Then the horn came, clear and mellow, through the cold November air and Joan drew the hood of her cloak about her head.
Kenny sighed.

He clung to her hand as she started away.
"Girleen," he said soberly, "the wind's cold.