By Blow and Kiss

“Have you quite finished, Stevie dear? Because I’m waiting to hear the other – and sweeter – things you have to say. There’s nothing else matters now.” She nestled her head back on his shoulder and went on dreamily, “And once – oh, ever so long ago, in another world it must have been, where men toil and fight and the country is a field of battle – someone told me that a blow was never struck that could not be wiped out by a kiss, given and taken. It was a wise and gentle old man who told me, dear, and – was he right?”

“He was right, dear heart; he was right,” said Steve.

And “He was right, he was right,” gurgled and chuckled the river, running swift through the piles and swinging ashore, to press caresses and kisses on the land it had but lately smitten, even as another and warmer kiss was being given and taken.