“Ever been kissed?”
He straightened up in his chair as if a pin had been abruptly inserted in him.
“Really, now——” he began.
“Call me Val,” she said. “What shall I call you?”
His mind was too beside itself to be on the defensive.
“My name,” he said, “is Edwin Tillotson Dell.”
“I’ll call you ‘Ned!’ ” she said. “I’m an artist. How do you cheat the wolf, Ned?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What field of endeavor do you decorate?”
“Me? Oh, I’m an—author.”