“You know I do,” answered Alfred, with the diffidence of a school boy.
“Then kiss me,” concluded Zoie, with an air of finality that left Alfred no alternative.
As a matter of fact, Alfred was no longer seeking an alternative. He was again under the spell of his wife's adorable charms and he kissed her not once, but many times.
“Foolish child,” he murmured, then he laid her tenderly against the large white pillows, remonstrating with her for being so spoiled, and cautioning her to be a good little girl while he went again to see about Baby.
Zoie clung to his hand and feigned approaching tears.
“You aren't thinking of me at all?” she pouted. “And kisses are no good unless you put your whole mind on them. Give me a real kiss!” she pleaded.
Again Alfred stooped to humour the small importunate person who was so jealous of his every thought, but just as his lips touched her forehead his ear was arrested by a sound as yet new both to him and to Zoie. He lifted his head and listened.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I don't know,” answered Zoie, wondering if the cat could have got into the room.
A redoubled effort on the part of the young stranger directed their attention in the right direction.