"What things?"
He put his arm round her and drew her to their seat beside the hearth. So drawn, so held, she looked in his face and smiled that singular smile of hers that he found so adorable and incomprehensible.
"I'm tired of being made love to. I'm going," she said, "to fling off all maidenly reserve and make love to you."
She put away his arm from her and rose and seated herself with audacity on his knees.
"The devil gets into me when I have to talk to Gertrude."
She put her arm lightly and shyly about him.
"Do you mind?" she said.
"No, Jinny, I rather like it."
Her arms tightened ever so little.
"It gives you, doesn't it, an agreeable sense of impropriety at your own fireside?"