“Arthur, you know I like you better than anybody.”
“No, you don’t.”
“How can you tell? I don’t usually lie.”
“Nobody likes me.”
“Why, Arthur!” She pulls your head over to hers and kisses you. “There, silly.”
“Never mind, Ann,” say sadly. “Never mind. You don’t have to. You can always be perfectly honest with me. I understand.”
“Oh, you do not either!” She is impatient. “You don’t understand me at all, if you’re going to sulk like that. Here, kiss me.”
Then bury your face in her neck.
“Oh, Ann, you’re so sweet and I’m such a mess. I’m going to take you home. I’ll just make a fool of myself.”
“Why, Arthur?” she says, gently. “Don’t feel so badly. I understand.”