"David, don't say that. Just this minute I was thanking Him in my
heart because we didn't know until we belonged to each other."

She lifted her lips to him, as she always did when deeply moved, and
instinctively he lowered his to meet them. But before he touched her
he stopped, stricken by a bitter thought, and pushed her face away
almost roughly.

"Oh, Carol," he cried, "I can't. I can never kiss you again. I have
loved to touch you, always. I have loved your cool, sweet, powdery
skin, and your lips,--I have always thought of your lips as a crimson
bow in a pale pink cloud,--I--I have loved to touch you. I have always
adored your face, the look of it as well as the feel of it. I have
_loved_ to kiss you."

Carol slipped an arm beneath his head and strove to pull his hand away
from his face.

"Go on and do it," she whispered passionately. "I am not afraid. You
kissed me yesterday and it didn't hurt me. Kiss me, David,--I don't
care if I do get it."

He laughed at her then, uncertainly, brokenly, but he laughed. "Oh, no
you don't, my lady," he said. "You've got to keep strong and well to
take care of me. You want to get sick so you'll get half the petting."

Like a flash came the revelation of what her future was to be. "Oh, of
course," she cried, in a changed voice. "Of course we must be
careful,--I forgot. I'll have to keep very strong and rugged, won't I?