“Indeed there was ...” his smile entered her into his confidence.
“I don’t mind ...” said Deb uncertainly.
“Of course you don’t. But—now, there’s no reason, is there, why you shouldn’t be that somebody yourself?”
She shook a doubtful head.
“I love your mop of hair, Deb—I’m glad you cut it.”
“I wanted to look like a boy—”
“You look the most girlish creature that ever plagued a man with promises.”
She interrupted with a quick: “I never promised anything.”
“Not with your mouth, Deb. Not with speech, rather.... How am I now to wind the thick black tresses round your throat, Deborah?”
“You’ll have to abandon that pretty old-world pastime—” flippantly. “Or take the bell-rope.”