She stopped and put both arms around his neck, her head tipped back, her eyes half closed, her sweet yellow hair rolling from her forehead.

Her whole dear being radiated with that sweet, clean perfume that seemed to come alike from her clothes, her neck, her arms, her hair, and mouth--the delicious, almost divine, feminine aroma that was part of herself.
"You do love me, Condy, don't you, just as I love you ?" Such words as he could think of seemed pitifully inadequate.

For answer he could only hold her the closer.

She understood.

Her eyes closed slowly, and her face drew nearer to his.