He shifted again uncomfortably.

"For several months," he began, "but I must admit--"

"No, no!" she interrupted with a swift emotional change. "Don't admit
anything. It was wicked of me to mock you. Come, we will drink to the
lady in Philadelphia! Fill the glasses! To Katherine! And poor, weak
human nature! Katherine! And all our good resolutions!"

Pen's eyes teased her lover with a gay _diablerie_ as she slowly emptied
her glass, and Herrick's heart quickened at the realization that this
beautiful woman belonged to him--she belonged to him. At the same time
he was conscious of a vague uneasiness under the increasing allurement
of her glances. Were there ever such eyes in the world? Was there ever
such a woman? Adorable as a saint, dangerous as a siren!

"There is one pledge I will never break, Pen," he said tenderly. "I'll
never fail to do every possible thing to make you happy."

"Will you take me back to Paris, Chris? I want to spend a whole year in
Paris with you. We'll go to fine hotels along the Champs Elysees, we'll
prowl through those queer places in Montmartre, remember? and once
you'll take me to a students' ball, won't you, dear? I'd love to dance
at a students' ball--_with you_!" Her eyes burned on him under
fluttering black lashes--such long curling lashes! "Let's drink to
Paris--_toi et moi, tous les deux ensemble, pas?_ Come!" She snatched up
her glass again and emptied it quickly.

A spirit of wild gaiety and abandon had caught Penelope--there was no
restraining her. They must sit on the divan under that dull blue light,
and talk of their love--their wonderful love that had swept aside all
barriers--while she smoked another cigarette. Christopher forgot to be
afraid--he, too, was young! _Vive la joie!_

She nestled close to him against the pillows and, as they talked in low
tones, he drew her closer, breathing the perfume of her hair. She caught
his hand and clung to it, then slowly, restlessly, her fingers moved
along his arm.

"My love! My love!" she whispered.

"Sweetheart!" he looked deep into her soul, his heart pounding
furiously.

"It was horrid of me, Chris, to make you promise--that," she bent close
offering him her lips.

"Promise what?" he asked unsteadily.

"Oh, Chris," she whispered and her soft form seemed to envelope him. "I
am yours, yours!"

Then silence fell in the room while she pressed her eager mouth to his.

"Penelope!" he thrilled deliriously.

"Don't call me