“All?” There was a vast incredulity in his voice.
“All?” In her voice was an interrogation no less vast.
“I mean—er—nothing worse?” He was overwhelmingly aware of his own awkwardness.
“Worse?” She was frankly puzzled. “As though there could be! Billy said—”
“When did he say it?” Bashford demanded abruptly.
“In his letter I got this morning. Billy said that my... our... our kisses were terrible if we didn't get married.”
Bashford's head was swimming.
“What else did Billy say?” he asked.
“He said that when a woman allowed a man to kiss her, she always married him—that it was terrible if she didn't. It was the custom, he said; and I say it is a bad, wicked custom, and I don't like it. I know I'm terrible,” she added defiantly, “but I can't help it.”
Bashford absent-mindedly brought out a cigarette.