I didn't understand, and I said so. But she laughed and refused to explain.
"Life is short and full of sorrow," she said. "And the world is full of war and we'll all get hurt, sooner or later, I think. What a pity! Because the world really is lovely. And when one is young, and just beginning to fall in love with life, one is naturally inclined to taste what few delights are offered between these storms of death—brief glimpses of sunshine, Monsieur, that gleam for a few moments between the thunderous clouds that darken all the world.... So, if you choose to kiss me——"
We sat quite motionless and in silence for a while. Then:
"How about Smith?" I asked tersely.
"Monsieur Smith?" she repeated, flushing. "Why do you ask?"
"I don't know.... I wondered—wondered——"
"What?"
"How he'd feel about my kissing you. He might not like it, you know."
"You mean to tell him!" she exclaimed in dismay.
"No, of course not! But suppose he sauntered around the corner—during the process——"