“What is Kit?”
“Sometimes this, sometimes that. We all have our moods.”
“I believe he has no existence but in your imagination. Who is he? Tell me.”
“Will you kiss me, George, if I tell?”
“That I will.”
He suited the action to the word, putting his lips to hers, while she submitted quietly.
“Now,” said he.
“But I haven’t told,” she protested.
He could have boxed her pink ear; and he did fling from her with some roughness.
“P’sha!” he said. “I am wasting time.”