"Am I wrong? Could you—didn't I surprise you—in fact, paralyse you—with astonishment?"
He laughed delighted; and she stamped her ringing foot again.
"I see," she said; "I am supposed to be doubly in your debt, now. I'd rather you had kissed me and we were quits!"
"It isn't too late you know."
"It is too late. It's all over."
"Madame, I have fifty-nine other minutes in which to meet your kindly expressed wishes. Did you forget?"
"What!" she exclaimed, aghast.
"One hour less one minute is still coming to me."
"Am I—have I—is this ridiculous performance going to happen again?" she asked, appalled.
"Fifty-nine times," he laughed, doubling one spangled leg under the other and whirling on his toe till he resembled a kaleidoscopic teetotum. Then he drew his sword, cut right and left, slapped it back into its sheath, and bowed his wriggling bow, one hand over his heart.