"What is it?" I demanded rather scornfully. "When have you shown me any kind of high principledness?"
"This afternoon," he retorted. "Just now. Just when I came upon the Sleeping Beauty on the cliffs!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it's not every man who would have woke her up with just a snatch of song. And I that am so—so hard up for a pair of decent new gloves!" he concluded, laughing.
And then he caught my eyes with his own, his insolent, devil-may-care blue ones. He looked down, straight down into them for a long moment.
I felt myself crimsoning under his regard. I felt—yes, I don't know how it happened, but I did feel exactly as if he had done what he had, after all, had the decency to leave undone.
There's very little difference, apparently, between a look like that—and a tangible caress....
And yet I couldn't say a word!
I couldn't accuse him—of anything!
Maddening young scamp!