Then Larry kissed her.
* * * * *
On the other side of the screen, to her own accompaniment on the piano, the Baroness Charny began singing:
"Tes doux baisers sont des oiseaux
Qui voltigent fous sur mes lèvres,
Ils y versent l'oubli des fièvres
Tes doux baisers sont des oiseaux,
Aussi légers que des roseaux,
Foulés par les pieds blancs des chèvres
Tes doux baisers sont des oiseaux
Qui voltigent fous, sur mes lèvres."
Amid the chorus of approval, as the Baroness paused, a thin little lisping voice was heard.
"Oh, how too utterly thweetly exthquithite! I never thought of kitheth being like the flight of little birdth. Are they, Mr. Bent? I thought they lathted longer."
Bent shrugged his shoulders and laughed. "How should I know, Miss Champney? I've never been married."
"Married? How thilly! Of courthe not! It would be thtupid to kith then—tho unneth-eth—unneth-eth—oh, you know what I mean, don't you?"
"I'm afraid I don't. I'd be tempted not to understand, just to hear you say 'unnecessary' again."
"Now you're making fun of me. You're perfectly horrid. Ithn't he, Mr. Perot?"