and kissed them and then held her fingers against his cheek.
"Glad to have me back?" he inquired of her.
"Oh, Davey!" she whispered, gasping; and he felt her trembling and liked it. He liked her exclaiming, as she did in a moment, "You're not cold at all but you've been waiting out there for me!"
"That's why I couldn't get cold," he said.
"No; you're so strong. And you got it, Davey! You got it!"
She meant that "it"—that ten thousand dollars of Mr. Fuller's—about which she had known ever since there was the first chance of getting it and about which he had telephoned her at Willard when he came out from town.
"Yes," he said. "I got it. And it's put up with Snelgrove's money. It's a deal, Alice!"
He had been about to take her in his arms. How lovely she was, how slender and gentle and what feeling for him she put in her soft, almost shy touches. He was feeling the loveliness of her hand on his cheek and he had been about to clasp her closer, but something about that ten thousand, which she had mentioned, downed his impulse.
They had made rules for themselves, Alice and David, long ago when they became "engaged"—rules to keep their love fine and pure, free from the cheapening and debasement of many kisses and caresses. They might kiss on meeting, when alone, kiss before parting, of course; and at some other times; they might keep their hands in each other's but other clasps must be feared. So, in spite of that five-
