July under the lee of the diamond mountain was a month of blanket
nights and of warm, glowing days. John and Kismine were in love. He
did not know that the little gold football (inscribed with the legend
_Pro deo et patria et St. Mida_) which he had given her rested on
a platinum chain next to her bosom. But it did. And she for her part
was not aware that a large sapphire which had dropped one day from her
simple coiffure was stowed away tenderly in John’s jewel box.
Late one afternoon when the ruby and ermine music room was quiet, they
spent an hour there together. He held her hand and she gave him such a
look that he whispered her name aloud. She bent toward him--then
hesitated.
“Did you say ‘Kismine’?” she asked softly, “or--”
She had wanted to be sure. She thought she might have misunderstood.
Neither of them had ever kissed before, but in the course of an hour
it seemed to make little difference.
The afternoon drifted away. That night, when a last breath of music
drifted down from the highest tower, they each lay awake, happily
dreaming over the separate minutes of the day. They had decided to be
married as soon as possible.