“He is so ugly!” said Loseis.
“You silly girl!” said Conacher fondly. “Gault’s considered a very fine-looking man!”
“Not to me! . . . You are beautiful, my Paul. In the dark I can see your beauty!”
“Oh, Loseis! you must not say such things!” he said, genuinely distressed. “It is not fitting from you to me!”
“Why?” she asked wilfully.
“Because . . . because . . . by comparison with you I . . . Oh, Loseis, I ought to be kneeling at your feet!”
“What good would you be to my feet?” she asked, nestling against him. “I like it better this way.”
Conacher laughed suddenly and delightedly in his throat.
“Well . . . ?” said Loseis, leaving her interrogation in the air.
“What is it?” he asked anxiously.