"Not if you'll kiss me without," said Bunny generously.
"Oh, I don't mind kissing you—" she lifted her lips at once, "if it doesn't mean anything."
He stooped swiftly and met them with his own. His kiss was close and lingering, it held tenderness; and in a moment her arms crept round his neck and she clung to him as she returned it. He felt a sob run through her slight frame as he held her though she shed no tears and made no sound, and he was stirred to a deeper chivalry than he had ever known before.
"It does mean one thing, darling," he said softly. "It means that we love each other, doesn't it?"
She did not answer him for a moment; then: "It may mean that," she whispered back. "I don't know—very much about—love. No one ever—really—loved me before."
"I love you," he said. "I love you."
"Thank you," she murmured.
He held her still. "You'll never run away from me again? Promise!"
She shook her head promptly with a faint echo of the elfin laughter that had so maddened him a little earlier. "No, I won't promise. But I'll show you where I was hiding if you like. Shall I?"
"All right. Show me!" he said.