Chapter Twenty-two
This pronouncement did not have quite the desired effect, for after staring at Giles blankly for a moment or two Antonia tried to smile, failed, and felt a choking lump rise in her throat. Giles saw her face begin to pucker, and promptly took her in his arms. “Don't cry, Tony darling!” he said gently. “It's going to be all right.”
Antonia hid her face in his shoulder, and gave way to her over-wrought feelings. However, she was not one to indulge in an orgy of tears, and she soon stopped crying, and after one or two damp sniffs, sat up, and said shamefacedly: “Sorry. I'm all right now. Thanks for being nice about it.”
Giles drew his handkerchief out of his pocket, and compelled Antonia to turn her face towards him. He looked down at her lovingly, and said: “I won't kiss a wet face. Keep still, my lamb.”
Antonia submitted to having her tears wiped away, but stammered, rather red in the face, “D- don't talk rot, Giles!”
“I'm not talking rot,” he replied and took her in his arms again, this time not gently at all, and kissed her hard and long.
Antonia, unable to utter any protest, made one feeble attempt to push him away, and then, finding it impossible, grasped his coat with both hands and clung to him. When she was able to speak she first said, foolishly: “Oh, Giles!” and then: “I can't! I mean, you don't really — I mean, we couldn't possibly — I mean —'
“You don't seem to me to know what you mean,” said Giles, smiling into her eyes. “Luckily, I do know what I mean.” He possessed himself of her left hand, and drew the ring from her third finger, and put it into her palm, closing her fingers over it. “You'll send that back to Mesurier tonight, Tony. Is that quite clearly understood?”
“I was going to, anyhow,” said Antonia. “But - but if you actually mean you want to m-marry me instead, I can't see how you can possibly want to.”
“I do actually mean that,” said Giles. “Just as soon as I've finished with this affair of Kenneth's.”