"I--I don't know how to say what I feel--about your remembering.
You little--little thing!" This last because he somehow strangely saw her five years old again.
It was a boy's unspoiled, first love making--the charming outburst of young passion untrained by familiar use to phrases.

It was like the rising of a Spring freshet and had the same irresistible power.
"May I have them?
Will you give them to me with your own little hand ?" The happy glow of her smiling, as she picked them up and laid them, one by one, on his open extended palm, was as the glow of the smiling of young Eve.

The dimples playing round her mouth and the quiver of her lashes, as she lifted them to laugh into his eyes, were an actual peril.
"Must I give you the pin too ?" she said.
"Yes--everything," he answered in a sort of helpless joy.

"I would carry the wooden bench away with me if I could.

But they would stop me at the gate." They were obliged to treat something a little lightly because everything seemed tensely tremulous.
"Here is the pin," she said, taking it from under the lapel of her coat.
"It is quite a long one." She looked at it a moment and then ended in a whisper.