"Oh! God!" she shrieked and turned to confront him. "Oh, you!" she observed. "I thought you'd got over all that!"
He whistled between his teeth, put one tweed-clad arm around her shoulders and pressed her to him.
"Go on!" she said, in a half-whisper. "I'll call Mrs. Tompkins."
Still whistling, with his free hand he tilted her chin up to his face, stooped over and kissed her. I could see her hands flutter and press against his chest for a moment, then relax, then clutch him fiercely, as her lips thrust against his mouth. I rose and growled.
"Hello!" Winnie exclaimed. "Why if it isn't Ponto? You jealous again, old boy? We can't have a moralist around here, can we, Myrtle?"
He turned and kissed her again.
I stalked over and stood, rumbling a bit, beside her, ready to attack if he carried his dalliance beyond decorum.
"Let me go, sir," Myrtle begged in a hoarse whisper.
"Tonight?" he asked, holding her close.
"Yes," she sighed. "I'll come down, sir. Tonight, when the dishes are done and the house asleep."