“I am sorry,” he said the instant after. “What for?” “Letting your hand go so quick.” “You may have it again if you like; there it is.” She gave him her hand again. Oak held it longer this time—indeed, curiously long. “How soft it is—being winter time, too—not chapped or rough or anything!” he said. “There—that’s long enough,” said she, though without pulling it away. “But I suppose you are thinking you would like to kiss it? You may if you want to.” “I wasn’t thinking of any such thing,” said Gabriel, simply; “but I will—” “That you won’t!” She snatched back her hand. Gabriel felt himself
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