He could remember the exquisite thrill it had given him when she had first uttered the word--in a crowd of careless people.

Now, when Bubbles called him "dearest" it did not thrill him at all, for he knew she said it to a great many people--and yet it always gave him pleasure to hear her utter the dear, intimate little word to him.
"Get up and go to bed, you naughty girl!" he said good-humouredly, but there was a great deal of tenderness in his low, level tone.
She rose quickly to her feet.

All her movements were quick and lightsome and free.

There was a touch of Ariel about Bubbles, so Bill Donnington sometimes told himself.
They walked up the few shallow steps together, she still very close to him.

And then, when they were opposite her door, she exclaimed, but in a very low whisper: "Now you must say the prayer with me--for me!" "The prayer?
What _do_ you mean, Bubbles ?" "You know," she muttered: "Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, Bless the bed that I lie on-- "What's after that ?" she asked.
He went on, uttering the quaint words very seriously, very reverently: "Four corners to my bed, Four Angels round my head; One to watch and one to pray, One to keep all fears away"-- "No," she exclaimed fretfully.