"Such things are better left to the imagination," I answered.
"I ought to write and tell her," murmured Lisbeth.
"But you won't do that, of course?"
"No, I won't do that if—"
"Well?"
"If you will give me—them."
"One," I demurred.
"Both!"
"On one condition then—just once, Lisbeth?"
Her lips were very near, her lashes drooped, and for one delicious moment she hesitated. Then I felt a little tug at my coat pocket and springing to her feet she was away with "them" clutched in her hand.