the fight begins.

'Now, I'm sure you haven't forgot already,' she said. 'Here! You catch
hold of the post on my side. Then we shall be comfortable.' She swayed
forward to make easier for him the movement she advised, and her whole
figure from ankle to shoulder touched him lightly. He obeyed, and she
swung back again, nestling into the curve of his arm. 'That's nice,
isn't it? Now, what was ee going to tell?' Paul had not a word to say
for himself. If he had ever had the audacity to picture anything in his
own mind like this present truth, he would have thought it certain to
be deliriously happy; but as a matter of fact he was miserable, and felt
himself at the clumsiest disadvantage. 'You said,' she murmured, half
reproachfully, you'd go through fire _or_ water for me, Paul.'

'So I would,' said Paul.

'Why? she asked, nestling a little nearer. 'Why, Paul?'

'I would,' said he, rather sulkily than otherwise.

'Why?' She swayed forward again, and looked into his face. Her breath
fanned his cheek. Her eyes were wide open and looked into his almost
mournfully. 'Why?' Her glance hypnotized him. 'Why?'

'I love you,' he said, in a whisper.

'Do ee? she cooed. 'Oh, you silly Paul! What for?'

'I don't know,' he said. 'There never was anybody as lovely as you are.'

The words seemed to slide from him, apart from his will.

'Oh, you silly Paul Am I lovely?'

'Lovely? sighed Paul, and tangled his eyes in hers more and more.

'You'll make up that piece of poetry about me, won't ee, Paul?'

'Yes.'

The word was just audible, a breath, no more.

'You dear!' she said; and, leaning nearer and yet nearer to him, she
laid her lips on his. They rested there for one thrilling instant, and
then she drew back an inch or two only. 'Make it up about that,' she
said, looking point blank into his eyes. Paul drooped his head and the
lips met again, and fastened. A delicate fire burned him, and he curled
his arm about her waist, and drew her to him. She yielded for one
instant, and then slipped away with a panting laugh. 'Oh, Paul?' she
said; 'you really are too dreadful for anything! Fancy! A mere child
like you. I should like to know what Mr. Filmer'd say if ever he knew
I'd let ee do that.'

By one of those curious intuitions to which the mind is open at times
of profound excitement, Paul knew what her answer would be, but he
asked the question. At first his voice made no sound; but he cleared his
throat and spoke dryly, a