It seemed a safe enough subject, and she nodded: "I think so."
"I was just wondering," he whispered, "that if this law prevailed now, which would the State confiscate—your eyes, your mouth, the tip of your chin, your—"
"If thoughts kill," she frowned, "my mind would be seized. I've murdered you several times with that."
"You've murdered me several times with everything about you! I wish I were the State!"
"State of Idiocy? Why carry coals to Newcastle?"
"To heap on your head," he laughed, "and scorch your uncharitable soul!"
"My poor lost soul," she murmured.
"Then take notice that, if finders are keepers, I'm heading a search party."
She looked gaily up at him, for it was hard to remember that she was angry; but quickly her face sobered.
"I forgot, and I must not forget, that you've mortally offended me."