"You can't help it, of course; but you can help spoiling my nosegay," I said.
Then I saw he really was put out at what I said, and I peeped up at him under my eyelashes in a way he called shy. It wasn't shy really. I knew I could come round Rupert in a moment with that peep.
"There, never mind," I said; "you needn't care. Nobody is ever cross with me, and you know I don't mean anything."
"There never was anybody like you, Kitty," says he, ready to forgive in a moment.
Then he walked by my side, quite silent for a minute, maybe more. I didn't know what had come over him.
"Kitty," says he at last.
"Yes," says I.
"Kitty," says he, and stuck fast again, for all the world as if he'd got into a slough of despond.
"Well," said I.
"Kitty," says he a third time, and looked as red and sheepish as anything.