Hermione. "Oh!" (A very small pause.) "Likes my name, does he?"
Spike. "He sure does. He told me so."
Hermione. "Oh!" (Another small pause.) "Just what did he say, boy dear?"
Spike. "He said it was Greek an' very beautiful, an' then I said it kind of fitted you because you were aces up on the face an' figure question."
A rush of petticoats, and enter Hermione, flushed and laughing.
"You dear boy!" she cried, "for that you shall be kissed!" which he was forthwith; after which she turned to the mirror to smooth back a shining tress of hair—that same rebellious curl that glistened above her fine, black eyebrow.
"Where did you say you first met him—Mr. Geoffrey?" she enquired suddenly, still busied with the rebellious curl. Spike started, and glanced uneasily at her shapely back.
"Say, Hermy," said he, a little huskily, "have you got anything for supper?"
"Not much, dear, I'm afraid."
"That's a pity!"