"I don't mind him so much up there," said Robin, and he ventured
to take one of her hands in his own,--"but he always has so much
of you; he nestles under your chin and is caressed by your sweet
lips,--he has all, and I have,--nothing!"

"You have one hand," said Innocent, with demure gravity.

"But no heart with it!" he said, wistfully. "Innocent, can you
never love me?"

She was silent, looking at him critically,--then she gave a little
sigh.

"I'm afraid not! But I have often thought about it."

"You have?"--and his eyes grew very tender.

"Oh yes, often! You see, it isn't your fault at all. You are--
well!"--here she surveyed him with a whimsical air of admiration,
--"you are quite a beautiful man! You have a splendid figure and a
good face, and kind eyes and well-shaped feet and hands,--and I
like the look of you just now with that open collar and that gleam
of sunlight in your curly hair--and your throat is almost white,
except for a touch of sunburn, which is RATHER becoming!--
especially with that crimson silk tie! I suppose you put that tie
on for effect, didn't you?"

He flushed, and laughed lightly.

"Naturally! To please YOU!"