"Why don't you?" she asked, flushing slightly.
"The reason I haven't," he said, "is because I'm in love with you."
She was standing with head bent, but now she looked up quickly.
"You adorable infant," she laughed. "What a child you really are, after all! Come," she added mischievously, "let's kiss like good children and let the gods occupy themselves with our future. It's their business, not ours. I'm glad you think you're in love with me. But, Jim, I'm in love with life. And you're such an important part of life that, naturally, I include you!"
She bent forward and touched his lips with hers, daintily, deftly avoiding his arms, her eyes gay with malice.
"No," she laughed, "not that, if you please, dear friend! It rumples and raises the deuce with my hair and gown. But we are friends again, aren't we, Jim?"
"Yes," he said in a low voice, "—if you can give me no more than friendship."
"It's the most wonderful thing in the world!" she insisted.
"You've read that somewhere."
"You annoy me, Jim! It is my own conclusion. There's nothing finer for anybody—unless they want children. And I don't."