She shook her head.
"Isn't it true?" he insisted.
She looked up at him at last, frank-eyed but flushed:
"'Which is the real pleasure?' she asked"
"Which is the real pleasure," she asked, "seeing each other, or anticipating the—the resumption of the entente cordial?"
"You've smashed the sages and their philosophy," he nodded, studying the exquisite, upturned features unsmilingly. "To be with you is the greater—content. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
She nodded thoughtfully: "Five days and a half."