"I was thinking," she went on, "how nobody in Redchester ever talked about kisses. Even little ones."
"So you are shocked?"
"No. What a word! I'm full of wonder at the miracle of you—you—being so kind to me—me! Saying such beautiful things, thinking such beautiful things."
This trick of gratitude was really maddening.
"Tell me about Redchester," he said shortly. "Don't they kiss each other there?"
"Oh, yes. But they don't have them in their eyes."
He shuddered.
"And people don't mention them, unless it's aunts. And then not like that. No aunt could ever possibly be of the pregnant parts needful for the invention of a phrase like that. And if she were I don't suppose I'd want to listen."
"You do at least then want to listen?"
"Want to? Aren't I listening always to every word you say with both my ears? What a mercy," she added with thankfulness, "what a real mercy, what an escape, that you're not an aunt!"