Richard watched her.

"I want you to have a white bonnet," said he.
"I'm too old, Richard," Sylvia replied, blushing.
"No, you ain't," he said, defiantly; "you've got to have a white bonnet." Sylvia looked in his face--and indeed hers looked young enough for a white bonnet; it flushed and lit up, like an old flower revived in a new spring.
Richard leaned over towards her, and the two old lovers kissed each other.

Richard moved his chair close to hers, and Sylvia felt his arm coming around her waist.

She sat still.

"Put your head down on my shoulder," whispered Richard.
And Sylvia laid her head on Richard's shoulder.