“Yes, she knows that, too—and likes me just the same.”
“Which would seem to be very little—as it should be.... My parasol if you please, I’m going.”
He kept his hold.
“You little witch,” he said; “I don’t know why I let you walk upon me so.”
The saucy mouth drooped at the corners. “Nor I why I walk—the way is surely very stony.... My parasol, I said.”
He glanced up and down the corridor.
“Do you know,” he said seriously, “I believe that hat is so big I could kiss you, and no one see us.”
She dropped the sun-shade and sprang back.
“Yes, I believe you could—and I believe you actually would—but you shan’t.”
He opened the parasol, and drew the circle close behind his head.