"But it is a curious view you take of it, isn't it, darling?" suggests Gower, humbly, "to say a kiss would raise hatred in your breast. I am perfectly certain it would make me love you more!"
"Then you could love me more?" with frowning reproach.
"No, no! I didn't mean that, only—"
"I must say I am greatly disappointed in you," says Miss Blount, with lowered eyes. "I shouldn't have believed it of you. Well, as you are bent on rushing on your fate, I'll tell you what I will do."
"What?" he turns to her, a look of eager expectancy on his face. Is she going to prove kind at last?
"Sometime," begins she, demurely, "no doubt I shall marry you—some time, that is, in the coming century—and then, when the time is finally arranged, just the very morning of our marriage, you shall kiss me, not before. That will prevent our having time to quarrel and part."
"Do you mean to tell me," indignantly, "you have made up your mind never to kiss me until we are married?"
"Until the morning of our marriage," corrects she.
"You might as well say never!" exclaims Gower, very justly incensed.
"I will, if you like," retorts she, with the utmost bonhommie.