"After certain preliminaries had been observed, M. Demetrius."
"Say, Constantine."
"As you will, Constantine. I can deny you few things, after what you have done."
"Yet what you deny is what I desire."
Lady Jim displayed impatience at this headlong haste. "We are not in Verona, nor will your age permit you to play Romeo to a Juliet of my temperament. When my husband's body is buried"--she laughed consciously--"and my months of mourning are ended, then--well, then--ah, be patient, Constantine."
"Am I not to touch your finger-tips meanwhile?"
"If it is any satisfaction;" and she gave him her hand to mumble, ruminating meanwhile on this shrinking of giant to dwarf. The unendurable lasted half a minute; then, "Be sensible, M. Demetrius."
"Ah!" the child sighed for his lost rattle; "you descend from poetry to prose."
She nodded. "Would you versify explanations?"
"Explanations?"