Then she turned her charming young head and looked across at him where he stood on the threshold.
"What do you think?" she said. "Ought you to go?"
"I ought to. But I don't think I shall."
"No, don't go," she said with a little laugh. "After all, if we're not to remain brother and sister any longer, there's a most fascinating novelty in your being here."
He came in and closed the door. She made room for him on the sofa and he flung his coat across her cloak and seated himself.
"Now," she said, dropping one silken knee over the other and clasping her hands around it, "how much can we care for each other without being silly? You know I have a dreadful intuition that I'd better not kiss you any more. Not that I don't adore you as much as I always did——"
She turned squarely around and looked at him out of her lovely eyes:
"You took me by surprise. I didn't understand. Then, suddenly I lost my senses and became panicky. I was scared stiff, Jim—you kissed me so many times——"
He reddened and looked down. Under his eyes her bare foot hung in its golden sandal—an exquisite, snowy little foot, quite perfectly fashioned to match her hands' soft symmetry.
"If you loved me," he said, "you would not care how many times I kissed you."