'"
She pressed her lips to mine.
"We kiss," she said.
But I was stupid.
"Oh, the weary, weary months," I complained. "You dear silly," she
gurgled. "Don't you understand?"
"I understand only that it is many a thousand miles from Valparaiso
to Seattle," I answered.
"You won't understand," she challenged.
"I am a fool," I admitted. "I am aware of only one thing: I want
you. I want you."
"You are a dear, but you are very, very stupid," she said, and as she
spoke she caught my hand and pressed the palm of it against her
cheek. "What do you feel?" she asked.
"Hot cheeks--cheeks most hot."
"I am blushing for what your stupidity compels me to say," she
explained. "You have already said that such things as licences and
ministers obtain in Valparaiso . . . and . . . and, well . . . "
"You mean . . . ?" I stammered.
"Just that," she confirmed.
"The honeymoon shall be on the Elsinore from Valparaiso all the way
to Seattle?" I rattled on.
"The many thousands of miles, the weary, weary months," she teased in
my own intonations, until I stifled her teasing with my lips.
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