“Like this,” said Nikky, who was, like most lovers, not particularly original. He tightened his strong arms about her.
“They are planning such terrible things.” Shell number two, and high explosive. “You won’t let them take me from you, will you?”
“God!” said poor Nikky, and kissed her hair. “If we could only be like this always! Your arms, Hedwig,—your sweet arms!” He kissed her arms.
Gun number three now: “Tell me how much you love me.”
“I—there are no words, darling. And I couldn’t live long enough to tell you, if there were.” Not bad that, for inarticulate Nikky.
“More than anybody else?”
He shook her a trifle, in his arms. “How can you?” he demanded huskily. “More than anything in the world. More than life, or anything life can bring. More, God help me, than my country.”
But his own words brought him up short. He released her, very gently, and drew back a step.
“You heard that?” he demanded. “And I mean it. It’s incredible, Hedwig, but it is true.”
“I want you to mean it,” Hedwig replied, moving close to him, so that her soft draperies brushed him; the very scent of the faint perfume she used was in the air he breathed. “I want you to, because Nikky, you are going to take me away, aren’t you?”