The magical voice
was in her ears. "Let you go? I'll never let you go! Poor little feet,
stumblin' in the dark, what would you do without Jerry? Time's comin',
you cheeky little devils, when you'll come runnin' to him when he
whistles! No use tryin' to get away--you belong to him."
Oh, whistle to them now, Jerry--they would run to you across the
stars!
"How'd you like to marry me before I go back to-morrow? No? No
accountin' for tastes, Miss Abbott--lots of people would simply jump
at it! All right--April, then. Birds and flowers and all that kind
o' thing--pretty intoxicatin', what? No, keep still, darlin' goose.
What feller taught you to wear a dress that looks like roses and
smells like roses and feels like roses? This feller? Lord help us,
what a lovely liar!"
And suddenly she found herself weeping helplessly, desperately, like
an exhausted child, shaken to the heart at the memory of the
rose-coloured dress.
"You like me just a bit, don't you, funny, quiet little thing? But
you'd never lift a finger to hold me--that's the wonder of
you--that's why I'll never leave you. No, not for heaven. You can't
lose me--no use tryin'."
But she had lost you, Jerry--you had left her, for all your promises,
to terrified weeping in the hushed loveliness of the terrace, where
your voice had turned her still heart to a dancing star, where your
fingers had touched her quiet blood to flowers and flames and
butterflies.
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