She thinks you're sleighing, Kathleen, and she's tremendously curious to know why you want her." "She probably suspects," said Kathleen, disappointed.
"No, she doesn't.

I began to talk business immediately, and I know she thinks that some of Mr.Tappan's lawyers are coming.

So they are--next month," he added with a grin, and, turning on Duane: "I think I'll begin festivities by washing your face in the snow." "You're not man enough," remarked the other; and the next moment they had clinched and were swaying and struggling all over the terrace, to the scandal of the servants peering from the door.
"He's tired and half frozen!" exclaimed Kathleen; "what a brute you are to bully him, Scott!" "I'll include you in a moment," he panted, loosing Duane and snatching a handful of snow.

Whereupon she caught up sufficient snow to fill the hollow of her driving glove, powdered his face thoroughly with the feathery flakes, picked up her skirt and ran for it, knowing full well she could expect no mercy.
Duane watched their reckless flight through the hall and upstairs, then walked in, dropped his coat, and advanced across the heavy rugs toward the fireplace.
On the landing above he heard Geraldine's laughter, then silence, then her clear, careless singing as she descended the stairs: "Lisetto quittee la plaine, Moi perdi bonheur a moi-- Yeux a moi semblent fontaine Depuis moi pas mire toi!" At the doorway she halted, seeing a man's figure silhouetted against the firelight.

Then she moved forward inquiringly, the ruddy glow full in her brown eyes; and a little shock passed straight through her.
"Duane!" she whispered.
He caught her in his arms, kissed her, locked her closer; her arms sought his head, clung, quivered, fell away; and with a nervous movement she twisted clear of him and stood breathing fast, the clamour of her heart almost suffocating her.