I could head it, 'Hatched, Matched, and Snatched'-- --" "That is perfectly horrid, Scott," protested his sister; "why do you let him say such rowdy things, Kathleen ?" "I can't help it," sighed Kathleen; "I haven't the slightest influence with him.

Look at him now!"-- as he laughingly passed his arm around her and made her two-step around the room, protesting, rosy, deliciously helpless in the arms of this tall young fellow who held her inflexibly but with a tenderness surprising.
Duane smiled and seated himself on the edge of the bed.
"You plucky little thing," he said, "were you perfectly mad to try to block that boar in the scrub?
You won't ever try such a thing again, will you, dear ?" "I was so excited, Duane; I never thought there was any danger----" "You didn't think whether there was or not.

You didn't care." She laughed, wincing under his accusing gaze.
"You _must_ care, dear." "I do," she said, serious when he became so grave.

"Tell me again exactly what happened." He said: "I don't think the brute saw you; he was hard hit and was going blind, and he side-swiped you and sent you flying into the air among those icy rocks." He drew a long breath, managed to smile in response to her light touch on his hand.

"And that's how it was, dear.