She held it out to him, still laughing, but with a difference.
He seized the rose—and suddenly, over-mastered by his impulse, suddenly, violently, made towards her.
But she drew away, extending her hands to protect herself.
"I beg your pardon," he said, pulling himself up. "But you should make a conscientious effort to be a trifle less adorable."
He pressed her rose to his mouth, crushing it, breathing in its scent, trying to possess himself of the touch her mouth had left upon it.
She sank into the corner of a sofa, and leaned back among the cushions.
"Well, do you promise?" she asked, smiling up at him.
"Do you flatter yourself that you 're a trifle less adorable now?" asked he, smiling down.
"Do you promise?" she repeated, taking away her eyes.
"I clean forget what it was you wished me to promise," said he.