"You're—talkin' weddin'-bells, Lew?"
He regarded her, the ash of his cigar falling and scattering down his waistcoat.
"What bells?"
"Weddin', Lew." Her voice was as thin as a reed.
"O Lord!" he said, pushing back slightly from the table. "Have another fizz, girl, and by that time we'll be ready for a trip in my underground balloon. Waiter!"
She drew down his arm, quickly restraining it. She was not so sure now of controlling the muscles of her mouth.
"Lew!"
"Now—now—"
"Please, Lew! It's what kept me alive. Thinkin' you meant that. Please,
Lew! You ain't goin' to turn out like all the rest in this town? You—the
first fellow I ever went as far as—last night with. I'll stand by you,
Lew, through thick and thin. You stand by me. You make it right with me,
Lew, and—"
He cast a quick glance about, grasped at the sides of the table, and leaned toward her, sotto.