There was a gentle rustling of skirts. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp.
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