She rose tremblingly to her feet, her arms stole around his neck.
"John, you dear, wonderful lover," she whispered, "why, it has come already! I am forgetting everything.

I am happy!" The clock on Wingate's mantelpiece struck one.

He drew himself gently away from the marvel of those soft entwining arms, stooped and kissed Josephine's fingers reverently.
"Dear," he said, "let me begin to take up my new responsibilities.

We must arrange for your stay here." She laughed happily, rose, and with a woman's instinct stood before the mirror, patting her hair.
"I don't recognise myself," she murmured.

"Is this what love brings, John ?" He stood for a moment by her side.
"Love ?" he repeated.