"And your velveteen cap!"
They laughed out together, and then they stopped suddenly and listened. "Was it anything?"
"No, I think not."
"Are you sure?"
Velasco leaned towards her and their fingers touched for a moment. She drew them away.
"Shall we go; is it time?"
"Not yet," said Velasco, "not yet! Your lips are so sweet, they are arched like a bow; they quiver like a string when one plays on it. Kiss me, Kaya."
She pressed him back with her hands outstretched, her palms against his coat. "We must go," she whispered, "They will track us, Monsieur. I am frightened."
"Kaya, kiss me."
Their eyes met and drew closer, gazing intently, the dark and the blue.