He said "Yes," feeling that he was bestowing a reward for good behaviour.
She squeezed his arm. "And isn't it nice," she whispered, with shining eyes, "to feel that we are really going to stay there when we get there?"
He pressed the small, confiding hand. "You are glad, then, Chris?" he said.
"Oh, my dear, I should think I am!" she made answer. "I've been counting the days to the one when I shan't have to peck Aunt Philippa good-night. She never kisses properly and she won't let me. She says it's childish and unrestrained." She laid her cheek suddenly against his shoulder. "I've had no one to hug for ever so long—except Cinders," she said.
"Hasn't Cinders been enough?" he asked, with a hint of surprise.
She turned her face upwards quickly. "Trevor, you're not to laugh at me!
It isn't fair."
He smiled a little. "I am not laughing, Chris, I assure you. I have always thought until this moment that Cinders was more precious to you than anyone else in the world."
"Oh, that's because you're a man," said Chris inconsequently. "Men always have absurd theories about women and the things they care for. As if we can't love heaps of people at the same time!"
"You can only love one person best," he pointed out.
"At a time," supplemented Chris, with a merry smile. "And you choose your person according to your mood. At least, I do. Oh, Trevor," with a sudden change of tone, "don't look! There's a hearse!"