"You beautiful witch," said I. "You unkind, beautiful witch. You've only to touch the water with the tip of your little red tongue to make it pure. You've only to put your lips to it to make it the sweetest music that ever a poor fool heard. You've only to smile like that to make me proud to kiss your shining foot."
"Nobby!" cried Adèle. "Oh, Nobby! Did you hear that? Did you hear what the man said? A real courtier's speech! But how can he kiss my feet when I'm sitting on them?"
I stepped to her side, picked her up, and swung her on to a table.
Then I kissed her sweet insteps.
From her perch my wife addressed the Sealyham.
"It's all right, Nobby," she said relievedly. "He is a king, after all. Only a king would have done that."
As I sat down by her side—
"I'd love to be a queen," cried a voice. "Love to. Wouldn't you like to be a king?"
It was Jill speaking.
The fresh tones came floating up and in at the open window. She could not have heard our words. It was pure coincidence.