“What do you think of it?” she asked.
“I don’t think there’s any harm in it,” he stammered guiltily, supposing she meant the contact of their interlaced fingers.
“Harm? I didn’t mean harm,” she said. “The play is perfectly harmless, I think.”
“Oh—the play! Oh, that’s just that sort of play, you know. They’re all alike; a lot of people go about telling each other how black white is and that white is always black—until somebody suddenly discovers that black and white are a sort of greenish red. Then the audience applauds frantically in spite of the fact that everybody in it had concluded that black and white were really a shade of yellowish yellow!”
She had begun to laugh; and as he proceeded, excited by her approval, the most adorable gaiety possessed her.
“I never heard anything half so clever!” she said, leaning toward him.
“I? Clever!” he faltered. “You—you don’t really mean that!”
“Why? Don’t you know you are? Don’t you know in your heart that you have said the very thing that I in my heart found no words to explain?”
“Did I, really?”
“Yes. Isn’t it delightful!”