“Yes. Is she clever?”
“H'm! I suppose you might call her so.”
“And in love with you?”
“Great Scott! Why?”
“Is it very unlikely? I am.”
He began kissing her lips and hair. And, closing her eyes, Gyp thought: 'If only that's not because he doesn't want to answer!' Then, for some minutes, they were silent as the moonlit beech clump.
“Answer me truly, Bryan. Do you never—never—feel as if you were wasting yourself on me?”
She was certain of a quiver in his grasp; but his face was open and serene, his voice as usual when he was teasing.
“Well, hardly ever! Aren't you funny, dear?”
“Promise me faithfully to let me know when you've had enough of me. Promise!”