She leaned back as he climbed on top of her and kissed her mouth again. "That's it!"—eagerly. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. The veranda bamboo will be enough for me. Sheppard put out her arms mechanically. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. Love stories! It was of negligible importance that these books were bound in paper; Romance lay unalterably within. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. “No, no,” she cried.
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