"But where will it get us?" pleaded a muffled voice.
"I don't care." Her hand hovered over the dark hair, touching it with the wonderful, blended awkwardness and adroitness of first caresses.
He brushed the butterfly touch away and raised his head and looked long at her, slipping both arms round her waist and holding her tight.
"Will you always say that?"
"I don't know."
"Oh, Judith!" Her sweet, flushed face was close above him now, eyes drooping, lips faintly apart, drawn down to his as gently and inevitably as tired eyes close into sleep. "Judith, some day you'll have to care."
"Not yet. Neil, don't talk any more."
"I—can't."