"But can you keep me?" she said, sitting up with a jerk. "Do you think you can?"
"I mean to."
"But you won't if you lock me outside yourself. I don't feel that you have quite opened your doors." She hesitated, and spoke. "Basil, I sometimes think there's an enemy of yours after me, and I'm hammering for you to let me in, and you're not quick enough."
He laughed. "Who is this enemy?"
"Ah, do you think I dare turn round and face him? Open your doors, open your doors?"
"They're wide," he said, and spread his arms.
"But it's rather a narrow wideness," she said, as she put her head on his shoulder. "One might easily miss it in a hurry."
They were quiet for a little while, then Theresa spoke dreamily. "I wish they wouldn't sound the dinner-gong. I never want to move again. Didn't I dress quickly? It was to get back to you. Basil, I like you in this mood."
"I'm not in a mood, dear. I'm always like this when you will let me be."
"No," she said positively, "you are different. You were an indulgent potentate. Now you are a friend. You can't deceive me."