"May as well what—dearest?" he asked.
She shook an obstinate head.
"You don't love me," was her inevitable feminine challenge.
He laughed again. "Do I love you?" he demanded as he looked at her.
She did not answer, but the shade of Amos Burr melted afar.
Nicholas bent over her with abrupt intensity and kissed her lips until his kisses hurt her.
"Do I love you—now?" he asked.
"Yes—yes—yes." She freed herself with a laugh that dispelled the lingering cloud. "You may convince me next time without violence," she affirmed radiantly.
As he watched her his large nostrils twitched whimsically. "You were saying that we might as well—"
"Go home to supper," she finished triumphantly. "The sun has set."