“I say, Vee. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. " "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt. The night before they made McClintock's Ruth and Spurlock leaned over the rail, their shoulders touching. Love is a great thing, and happiness a joy. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. We are the species, and maternity is our game; that’s all right, but nobody wants that admitted for fear we should all catch fire, and set about fulfilling the purpose of our beings without waiting for further explanations. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. "Ah! but," said I, "there's a great deal in being hanged.
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