But it isn't coming to an end yet." "How long will it last ?" "Until the sun gets cold," said Martin, catching her mood, "and there's a chill in the air." She slipped down a little so that he should see the light in her eyes.
There was hardly an inch between their lips, and the only sound was the beating of her heart.

Youth and July and the scent of honeysuckle.
"I thought I was dead when you helped me out of that wreck," she went on in a quivering voice, and her long-fingered hand on his face.

"I think I must be really dead to-night.

Surely this is too sweet to be life." "Dear little Tootles," said Martin softly.

She was so close that he could feel the rise and fall of her breasts.