He laughed and looked at her loutishly.
“You know the condition, Zyp.”
“I have let you kiss me over and over again.”
“But you haven’t kissed me yet.”
She stamped her foot. “Nor ever shall!” she cried.
“Then here goes,” he said, and slipped it into his pocket.
At that she rushed at him and wound her arms about him like a young panther.
“Shall I tear you with my teeth?” she said, but instead she smoothed his face with one hand disengaged and murmured to him:
“Modred, dear, you got it for me, you know; you said so.”
“And precious frightened I was, Zyp.”