Moreover, when he looked at Mary's pure profile--the beautifully shaped eyes, classic mouth, and exquisite line of neck and shoulder, the very idea of touching those lips with a kiss given in mere lightness, seemed fraught with impertinence and irreverence.

If ever he kissed Mary, he thought,--and then all the powers of his mind galloped off like wild horses let loose on a sun-baked ranch--if ever he kissed Mary! What a dream!--what a boldness unprecedented! But again--if ever he kissed her, it must be with the kiss of a lover, for whom such a token of endearment was the sign of a sacred betrothal.

And he became so lost and abstracted in his musings that he almost forgot the simple village merriment around him, and only came back to himself a little when the party broke up altogether, and he himself had to say "good-night," and go with the rest.

Mary, while giving him her hand in farewell, looked at him with a sisterly solicitude.
"You're tired, Mr.Reay,"-- she said--"I'm afraid we've been too noisy for you, haven't we?
But one can't keep boys and girls quiet!" "I don't want them kept quiet,"-- said Reay, holding her hand very hard--"And I'm not tired.

I've only been thinking." "Ah! Of your book ?" "Yes.