"But you are the principal ingredient. Otherwise there's no virtue in a handkerchief soaked with witch-hazel."
She smiled, then in a low voice: "There's no virtue in me, either."
"Is that why you didn't include yourself in your first-aid offer?"
"Perhaps," she said, quietly, watching him out of her violet-gray eyes—a little curiously and shyly now, because he had moved nearer to her, and her arm, extended along the back of the seat, almost touched his shoulder.
She was considering whether or not to withdraw it when he said:
"Have you any idea what a jolly world this old planet can be when it wants to?"
She laughed.
He went on: "I mean when you want it to be. Because it's really up to you."
"To me, my slangy friend?"
"To you, to me, to anybody, Strelsa."