But she said with gay audacity, "I have nothing to forgive you—yet."
"Are you challenging me? Because I am likely to take you into my arms at any moment if you are."
"Not here—Garry!"—looking up in quick concern, for his recklessness at times dismayed her. Considering him doubtfully she made up her mind that she was safe, and her little chin went up in defiance.
"The hammock's in the patio," he said.
"There's moonlight there, too. No, thank you—with Cissy wakeful and her windows commanding every nook!... Besides—as I told you, I've been thinking."
"And what have you concluded?"
Delicate straight nose in the air, eyebrows arched in airy disdain, she stood preoccupied with some little inward train of thought that alternately made grave and gay the upcurled corners of her lips.
"About this question of—ah—love-making—" dropping her eyes in pretence of humility.
"It is no longer a question, you know."
She would not look up; her lashes seemed to rest on the bloom of the rounded cheek as though the lids were shut, but there came from the shadows between the lids a faint glimmer; and he thought of that first day when from her lifted gaze a thousand gay little demons seemed to laugh at him.