"Yes, dear one, it has been a long day," I said.
I led her to a chair and stood before her. She held up her hands and
regarded them critically. Then she looked up at me with quizzical eyes.
"You like my hands?" she asked.
"Yes, dear."
"Better than my lips?"
"No, dear."
"Well, one might think so. But, if you don't, then sir, I'm waiting."
Her peremptoriness was very sweet.
I had gone there determined to take no lover's privileges until the
cloud I was under had been removed. But, what would you! I was not
stone, nor ice--and, no more was the Princess.
"You are a very imperious little sweetheart," I said, and kissed her;
and whether once or twice or oftener does not matter.
She drew me down on the arm of the chair.
"I know what was in your mind, dear," she said; "and it's very good of
you; yet, we settled all that last night. I don't care a rap for that
woman."