"I know, but I'm not reading it."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Just waiting."
"Waiting? For what?"
Then she looked up at me, and there was a light in her eyes that was strange and good to see, but it sent my brain reeling. For a moment she looked at me thus, and started my heart thump-thumping like a steam pump. Then her eyes drooped.
"Don't you know, Frank?" she murmured.
Her face was ruddy in the glow of the lamp, and the pink skin shone with a color that was not all reflected. Amazing as was her revelation I could no longer fail to understand it. I rose and walked to the table; I took her hands in mine and lifted her to her feet.
"You are waiting for me to—kiss you, Jean," I whispered.
She was trembling, but she spoke with outward composure. "There is something else, first."
"Something else—first? I don't understand."