It was as through I had opened the floodgates. Tears ran down her face; her hands gripped mine. "Chris always kissed me good-night," she cried. "I know," I whispered. "I miss him so, all those years he kissed me good-night." She paused while I wiped the tears, "I just can't seem to go to sleep without his kiss." She looked up at me, her eyes full of tears. "Oh, thank you for giving me a kiss." A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "You know," she said confidentially, "Chris used to sing a song." "He did?" "Yes," - her white head nodded - "and I lie here at night and think about it." "How did it go?" Kate smiled, held my hand and cleared her throat. Then her voice, small with age but still melodious, lifted softly in song: So kiss me, my sweet, and so let us part. And when I grow too old to dream, That kiss will live in my heart.