David had drawn up to his place again. He held Vestalia’s hands in his at this juncture, somehow, and the enchanted table narrowed itself until there was no barrier of space between their lips.
The little kiss sweetened the air. The two, even while they exchanged a glance of shy surprise, thought of it with reverence. They instinctively gave to its contemplation a moment of tender silence.
“How shrewd you were in discerning my leaven of savagery,” he remarked at last. “Or leaven? we’d better say principal ingredient!”
“I like you that way,” said Vestalia, quietly.
He smiled at her in dreamy incredulity. “I wonder if you do,” he mused. “They say women do like men who beat them. The police courts seem to support the idea. But there is a difficulty, you see. If you liked me because I behaved badly to you, then I should dislike you on precisely that account. So you mustn’t suggest approbation. No, I was very rude and stupid, and I am profoundly ashamed of myself. I should be ashamed to offer an excuse, too, if it were not just the one it is. I happen to be head over heels in love with you, dear little lady.”
“And precisely what is that an excuse for?” demanded the girl, with a fine show of ingenuous calm.
“For letting my luncheon get cold,” he replied, taking up his fork.
With the laughter of pleased children, they resumed the broken course of the meal.
“It doesn’t begin to be as nice as your breakfast,” she commented after a little.
“I don’t think it is a day for things to eat,” he said, pushing the plate aside. “I want to do nothing but just look at you—perhaps talk a little—but hear you talk much more. I am conscious of an indefinite hunger for the mere visual charm of you, sitting there opposite me. It seems as if it would take years to satisfy that alone. Do you know that you are very beautiful, dear, in your new clothes?”