Red Pepper Burns gently released himself from his wife’s arms, walked over to the window, and stood there looking out into the thick branches of a magnolia tree, the ends of which came so close he could almost put out a hand into the night and touch them.  There was suddenly upon him a deep realization of just how much her words meant.  He felt unworthy of a love like that, even though he knew that all there was of him to give was wholly hers.

She stood, motionless, looking after him, her eyes touched with a lovely light, but she did not move.  And, presently, when he had conquered the curious stricture which had unexpectedly attacked his throat, he turned and saw her there, an exquisite figure in the French gown which she could seldom have occasion to wear where she had chosen to live out her life with him.  Both understood that the decision they had made was made for a lifetime, as such decisions are.

“I believe I could take it better,” said he, somewhat unsteadily, “if you weren’t wearing that confounded dress.  It makes me feel like what Jim Macauley dubbed me once—­a Turk.  Who am I, that I should keep you hidden away in my little old brick house?”

She turned and caught up a long gauzy scarf of white silk with heavy fringed ends.  She drew it lightly about her shoulders, veiling the delicate flesh from his sight.  Then she flung one end of the scarf up over her head and face, and came toward him, her dark eyes showing mistily through the drapery, her lips smiling.

“I’m not sure I don’t like being guarded by my Turk, Red,” she said.  “And—­about the frock.”  She came closer still, standing before him with downbent head, and speaking low, through the veiling, silken gauze.  “Please don’t mind about that.  I’m going to leave it behind with Charlotte.  I shall not care to wear it.  When next May comes I hope I shall be wearing only simple frocks that—­little hands can’t spoil!”

With a low ejaculation he tore off the scarf, seizing her head in both his hands and gently forcing her face upward that he might look into it.  For a minute his eyes questioned hers, then—­

“And you’re happy about it?” he asked of her breathlessly.

“I was never so happy in my life....  O Red—­are you so glad as that?”

“I think I’ve been waiting for that all my life,” confessed Red Pepper Burns.

THE END

* * * * *

OTHER BOOKS BY GRACE S. RICHMOND

Red Pepper Burns

Strawberry Acres

Brotherly House

A Court of Inquiry

On Christmas Day in the Morning

On Christmas Day in the Evening

Round the Corner in Gay Street

With Juliet in England

The Indifference of Juliet

The Second Violin