Dick went down to Dover and wasted a day there fretting over a wonderful possibility.

Would Maisie at the very last allow him one small kiss?
He reflected that he might capture her by the strong arm, as he had seem women captured in the Southern Soudan, and lead her away; but Maisie would never be led.

She would turn her gray eyes upon him and say, 'Dick, how selfish you are!' Then his courage would fail him.

It would be better, after all, to beg for that kiss.
Maisie looked more than usually kissable as she stepped from the night-mail on to the windy pier, in a gray waterproof and a little gray cloth travelling-cap.

The red-haired girl was not so lovely.