"You come here and sit quiet." He came and sat down beside her, as if the evening had only just begun.

He sat down carefully, tenderly, lest he should crush so much as the hem of her fan-like, diaphanous skirts.

And then he began to talk to her.
He said there was no woman--no lady--in the world for whom he felt such reverence and admiration; "Pop-oppy," he said, "you're fit to dance before God on the floor of Heaven when they've swept it." "Oh come," said Poppy, "can't you go one better ?" He could.

He did.

He intimated that though he worshipped every hair of Poppy's little head and every inch of Poppy's little body, what held him, at the moment, were the fascinations of her mind, and the positively gorgeous beauty of her soul.