“Oh, I always had to kiss him, or something. Not that I minded particularly. I rather liked kissing Alfred. But a compliment without any sort or kind of corollary is really delicious.” She whipped off her hat and put her chin in the air. “Don’t you love me like that?”
“Oh, gorgeous!” said Toby. “Now, Rachel’s stockings weren’t silk all the way.”
Hastily Miss Voile adjusted her frock.
“I was referring,” she said stiffly, “to my profile.”
“Equally lovely,” said Rage. Cicely choked. “I think I like your mouth best of all. I can quite understand people wanting to kiss you, you know. That short upper lip brings it, as it were, into the alert position. It sort of says, ‘Kiss me, you fool. Go on. I shan’t bite you.’ ”
“I shall in a minute,” said Cicely, bubbling. “How about my nose?”
“Oh, that’s well out of the way.”
“I suppose you mean it turns up.”
“The best ones do,” said Toby. “Besides, you needn’t worry. From temples to chin, you’ve got a face in a million. And then you are so sweet.”
“Now, do be careful,” said Cicely. “Don’t spoil it.”