“Elsie, do you know what I should like to do?”
“What, Mr. Roberts?”
“Call me Norman. I should like to make a hell of a lot of money and come back and marry you.”
“You shouldn’t use those words.”
“I’m in earnest, Elsie.”
“You’re making very free with my name, aren’t you?”
“You don’t mind.”
“No,” she whispered.
“You’re a little darling.”
The lights went out again, and his hand fumbled for hers in the darkness. Warm and unresisting it lay in his, and presently returned pressure for pressure.