“No, we won’t,” said Jones.
She slipped down into the chair beside him, pulled his arm around her and held up her lips.
“Now you’re kissing me really,” she murmured; “you seemed half frightened before—Ju-ju, I want to make a confession.”
“Well—somebody pretended to care for me very much a little while ago.”
“Who was that?”
“Never mind. I went last night to a dance at the Crawleys’ and he was there.”
“Yes.”
“Yes—is that all you have to say? You don’t seem to be very much interested.”
“I am though.”