“I did not mean to be thoughtless or unkind,” said Miss Mayfield, discreetly keeping to the point, and trying weakly to disengage her hand. “You know I wouldn't hurt your feelings.”
“I know, Miss Mayfield.” (Another kiss.)
“I was ignorant of your history.”
“Yes, miss.” (A kiss.)
“And if I could do anything for you, Mr. Jeff—” She stopped.
It was a very trying position. Being small, she was drawn after her hand quite up to Jeff's shoulder, while he, assenting in monosyllables, was parting the fingers, and kissing them separately. Reasonable discourse in this attitude was out of the question. She had recourse to strategy.
“Oh!”
“Miss Mayfield!”
“You hurt my hand.”
Jeff dropped it instantly. Miss Mayfield put it in the pocket of her sacque for security. Besides, it had been so bekissed that it seemed unpleasantly conscious.