I think I do love you, Dave--oh, Dave!" The last was a sighing dove-cry as he caught her up in his arms and pressed her to him.
"But I don't love you because you played the fool to-day," she whispered on his shoulder.

"White men shouldn't go around killing each other." "Then why do you love me ?" he questioned, enthralled after the manner of all lovers in the everlasting query that for ever has remained unanswered.
"I don't know--just because I do, I guess.

And that's all the satisfaction you gave me when we had that man-talk.

But I have been loving you for weeks--during all the time you have been so deliciously and unobtrusively jealous of Tudor." "Yes, yes, go on," he urged breathlessly, when she paused.
"I wondered when you'd break out, and because you didn't I loved you all the more.

You were like Dad, and Von.