" "We may believe as much of that as we please, I suppose," observed the carpenter's wife, with a sneer. " "Ay—ay," laughed Jonathan. “Some day,” she answered. Women who Dids, and all that kind of thing. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. \"Ever thought about letting me do something with your hair?\" Not needing an answer, Shari got up and whipped out a vented brush from an overstuffed drawer. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. . In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster.
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