Her face seemed to fade slightly, as if certain lights had been extinguished. She withdrew a little from him and did not look at him. “Why?” she asked presently. The gladness had gone out of her voice.
“Well ... kisses should be for one lover; not for two.”
She pondered, and turned to him with an air of triumph. “But you see, these are new kisses for Leander. They are entirely different. They’ve never been given before. They’ve got nothing to do with the others.”
He pretended to be convinced. But the kisses she gave to Leander were less rapturous. She was thinking.
“I’m afraid you don’t think so highly of ... Leander,” he suggested. “Suppose I be ... Samson?”
She leaned her head on his shoulder as if she had grown tired.
“Samson was a very strong man,” he explained. “He could push a house down.”
That interested her.
“Would you like to be Samson?” she asked.
“I think it might be nice ... but no—the woman who kissed Samson betrayed him. I think I won’t be Samson, after all.”