You have your work before you, and I——” He kissed her on the lips. 216 “Please, get dressed. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. I often wonder why the young always take us ancients for nambypamby creatures.
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