“Pearl,” the beads of sweat stood out on his brow, “I ain’t made you out.  I know you’re one thing one hour and another the next.  I’m no vain boy.  I can’t tell whether you’ve been drawing me on one minute and holding me back the next just because you got to annex the scalp of every man your sweet eyes fall on.  That’s all right, honey, I ain’t blaming you; but there’s been moments lately, Pearl, when I’ve thought that maybe you might care, moments when I been plumb crazy with joy.  You ain’t let ’em last very long, honey,” with a strained smile, “but they most made up for the black question mark that came after ’em.”  He drew out his handkerchief and wiped his wet brow with a trembling hand.

She threw back her head and smiled into his eyes through her narrowed lids.  She held out her hands to him; and with one step Hanson lifted her clear off the ground, gathering her up in his arms, holding her against his heart and kissing her scarlet mouth.

And she wound her arms about his neck and returned those kisses.

“Put me down,” she said at last, and Hanson did so, although he still held her close to his heart with one arm.

“Pearl!” he cried aloud, and it was like some strong affirmation of life.  He lifted his eyes, bold and unafraid, as an eagle’s, to the sun-flooded, brazen, blue heavens.  Time stood still.  He had drunk at a new fountain—­love, and, although his thirst was still unquenched, he was eternal youth.  The heart of life breathed through him.  He looked upon the sky, a man unconquered, unbeaten, undaunted by life.  He was its master.  Did she ask the snow peaks yonder?  He would gather them as footstools for her little feet.  Was it gold she desired?  It should be as dust for her hands to scatter to the winds.  Was it name, place, state, she asked?  They should be plucked forthwith from a supine world and offered her as a nosegay.

Again, confidently now, he stooped and kissed her lips.  It seemed to him that roses and stars fell about them.  “You love me, Pearl,” he had cried, in incredulous joy, “you love me.”

For answer she smiled sweetly, ardently into his eyes:  “’Love me to-day,’” she sang, nestling close to his heart.

CHAPTER IV

It was almost a week before Bob Flick returned, and during that time Pearl saw Hanson almost constantly, although to do so she had continually to match her quickness and subtlety against that of her father and Hughie; but even while she and her father met each other with move and counter-move, check and checkmate, it was characteristic of both of them that Hanson’s obvious infatuation and her equally obvious return of it were never mentioned between them.

With Hughie it was different, and Pearl met his petulant remonstrance, his boyish withdrawal of the usual confiding intimacy which existed between them, with laughter and caresses.  As for Mrs. Gallito, she alone was unchanged, apparently quite oblivious to storm conditions in the mental atmosphere.  But this was not unusual; when matters of importance were transacted in the Gallito household Mrs. Gallito did not count.