“You've known some life, haven't you?” he asked.
“Me? Why?”
“You seem to.”
“Do I? I'm sorry. Do I seem vicious?—No, I'm not vicious.—I've seen some life, perhaps—in Paris mostly. But not much. Why do you ask?”
“I wasn't thinking.”
“But what do you mean? What are you thinking?”
“Nothing. Nothing.”
“Don't be so irritating,” said she.
But he did not answer, and she became silent also. They sat hand in hand.
“Won't you kiss me?” came her voice out of the darkness.