She rose and walking to the window pushed aside the heavy Turkish
portieres and looked out.

"Oh!" she cried suddenly. "There's two little boys makin' a snow
man! Harry, do you reckon I can go out an' help 'em?"

"You dream! Come here and kiss me."

She left the window rather reluctantly.

"I don't guess this is a very kissable climate, is it? I mean, it
makes you so you don't want to sit round, doesn't it?"

"We're not going to. I've got a vacation for the first week
you're here, and there's a dinner-dance to-night."

"Oh, Harry," she confessed, subsiding in a heap, half in his lap,
half in the pillows, "I sure do feel confused. I haven't got an
idea whether I'll like it or not, an' I don't know what people
expect, or anythin'. You'll have to tell me, honey."

"I'll tell you," he said softly, "if you'll just tell me you're
glad to be here."

"Glad--just awful glad!" she whispered, insinuating herself into
his arms in her own peculiar way. "Where you are is home for me,
Harry."

And as she said this she had the feeling for almost the first
time in her life that she was acting a part.