I can't give you up, unless you don't like me.

But you do like me--just a little--don't you, Freckles ?" Freckles lay whiter than the coverlet, his staring eyes on the ceiling and his breath wheezing between dry lips.

The Angel awaited his answer a second, and when none came, she dropped her crimsoning face beside him on the pillow and whispered in his ear: "Freckles, I--I'm trying to make love to you.

Oh, can't you help me only a little bit?
It's awful hard all alone! I don't know how, when I really mean it, but Freckles, I love you.

I must have you, and now I guess--I guess maybe I'd better kiss you next." She lifted her shamed face and bravely laid her feverish, quivering lips on his.