Still kneeling, he looked up, and asked, "Do you feel safe now?"
She bent her face glaring down till the ends of her hair touched his cheek.
Said she, "Do you?"
Was she a witch verily? There was sorcery in her breath; sorcery in her hair: the ends of it stung him like little snakes.
"How do I do it, Dick?" she flung back, laughing.
"Like you do everything, Bella," he said, and took a breath.
"There! I won't be a witch; I won't be a witch: they may burn me to a cinder, but I won't be a witch!"
She sang, throwing her hair about, and stamping her feet.
"I suppose I look a figure. I must go and tidy myself."
"No, don't change. I like to see you so." He gazed at her with a mixture of wonder and admiration. "I can't think you the same person—not even when you laugh."