"There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. ” She lifted steadfast eyes to him. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. “I suppose most people’s letters are queer. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire.
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