“He was very nice. He told it in a roundabout way. And I wasn’t a bit afraid that he’d—he’d—you know. But I got to thinking about how I’d feel if he did—did touch me. And it made me—nervous.”
There was a long pause, then she went on: “I wonder how you’d feel about touching another woman?”
“I? Dear me, I wonder! I never thought. You see I’m such a domestic, unattractive creature——”
“Don’t laugh at me, please,” she pleaded.
“I’m not laughing. Underneath, I’m thinking—thinking what I would do if I met you and lost you. It’s very black on the Atlantic for one pair of eyes to-night.”
“And the worst of it is,” she said, “that my vanity is flattered and I’m not really sorry for him.”
“Rather proud of her conquest, is she?”
“Yes, it pleased me to have him care.”
“She likes to think that he’ll carry his broken heart to the grave, does she?”
“Yes. Isn’t it shameful?”