“Can you?” he said indolently. “Are you sure you’re not telling a little story?”
“No, no, quite sure. I have two sides to my character, a frivolous one and a serious one. You ought to know that by now.”
“Which have you shown to me oftenest?” He was peeling the stalk of its shielding blade of grass.
“I don’t know. That’s for you to say. Perhaps it’s been an even division.”
He looked up. She was smiling slightly, her dimple faintly in evidence.
“And I suppose the dimple,” he said, “belongs to the frivolous side.”
“Yes. Even my face has two sides; the frivolous one with the dimple and the serious one without.”
“Let me see them,” he said. “Let me judge which of the two is the more attractive.”
He leaned forward and with the tip of the long spear of grass, touched her lightly on the cheek.
“Turn,” he commanded, “turn, till I get a good profile view.”