“It’s lovely to have you back again,” she said; “you can’t think how I’ve been looking forward to it!”
Roland was embarrassed by her eagerness. He did not know what to say and stood beside her, smiling stupidly.
She pouted.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she said. And a moment later: “I shouldn’t have thought, after six months, you’d have needed asking!”
Roland met her reproach with a stammered apology.
“I felt shy. I thought you might have got tired of me, all that long time.”
“Oh, but Roland, how horrid of you!” And she moved away from him. But he took her in his arms and made love prettily to her and consoled her.
“I daresay,” she said, “I daresay. But you didn’t write to me so very often.”
“I wanted to, but I thought your mother wouldn’t like it.”
“Oh, but, Roland, that’s no excuse; she expected you to. There’s an understanding.” Then with a quiet smile: “Do you remember the row we had about that understanding?”