He said: “You’re rather amazing at times, do you know it?”
“Why?”
He smiled: “Also,” he said, “there’s an incongruity about this honeymoon of ours, Eris.”
“Where, Mr. Annan?”
“Between your lips and mine—when you say ‘Mr. Annan’ and I answer, ‘Eris.’ And on our honeymoon, too,” he added gravely.
Her laughter was a little confused.
“It seems natural for me to call you Mr. Annan. One is not likely to think familiarly of famous people——”
“Is it a horrible sort of bourgeois respect for the mystery of my art, Eris?”
She abandoned herself to laughter as his features grew gloomier.
“You are funny,” she said, “but one’s first impressions of people are not easily altered.... Would you wish me to call you—Barry?”