‘Why? she asked, nestling a little nearer. ‘Why, Paul?’
‘I would,’ said he, rather sulkily than otherwise.
‘Why?’ She swayed forward again, and looked into his face. Her breath fanned his cheek. Her eyes were wide open and looked into his almost mournfully. ‘Why?’ Her glance hypnotized him. ‘Why?’
‘I love you,’ he said, in a whisper.
‘Do ee? she cooed. ‘Oh, you silly Paul! What for?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘There never was anybody as lovely as you are.’
The words seemed to slide from him, apart from his will.
‘Oh, you silly Paul Am I lovely?’
‘Lovely? sighed Paul, and tangled his eyes in hers more and more.
‘You’ll make up that piece of poetry about me, won’t ee, Paul?’