Miss Jean sighed. "Then of course I can't shell peas, and you won't have any for supper."
"Hang supper! Jean, darling, how long are you going to keep me in suspense?"
"I'm not keeping you at all; and you mustn't call me 'darling.'"
"Are you going to keep me waiting seven years, as Rebecca kept Joseph?"
"It wasn't Rebecca or Joseph."
"Well, it doesn't matter; I had the waiting part of it right. I can feel the strain telling on me, and when I look into your eyes—like this—"
Here Miss Jean shut her eyes. Chetwood being human did the natural thing. Miss Jean wrenched her hand away and rubbed her cheek.
"How dare you!" she demanded with really first-class indignation.
"I don't know; but like Warren Hastings, I am astonished at my own moderation. I should have kissed you before. And I am going to kiss you again."
Though the prospect did not seem to dismay Miss Jean, she removed herself swiftly to a distance of several feet, and further consolidated her position by placing the pan of peas between them.