“Will you if I bite off the end?” asked Eve, Jr., placing temptation most temptingly.
“I like the idea exceedingly,” said Peter. “But my right arm is so very pleasantly placed that it objects to moving.”
“Don’t move it. I know where they are. I even know about the matches.” And Peter sat calmly while his pockets were picked. He even seemed to enjoy the sensation of that small hand rummaging in his waistcoat pockets. “You see, dear, that I am learning your ways,” Leonore continued, in a tone of voice which suggested that that was the chief end of woman. Perhaps it is. The Westminster catechism only tells us the chief end of man.
“There. Now are you really happy?”
“I don’t know anybody more so.”
“Then, dear, I want to talk with you.”
“The wish is reciprocal. But what have we been doing for six days?”
“We’ve been telling each other everything, just as we ought. But now I want to ask two favors, dear.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. Just tell me what they are.”
“Yes. These favors are. Though I know you’ll say ‘yes.’”