‘And I’m afraid of you.’
‘You’re not. You’re only amused at me.’
‘No. You’re wrong.’
He fell silent, smoking and watching her; all his attention fixed in his eyes. It was as if he could not look away. Her head swam, and she stammered:
‘What are you thinking?’
‘That it’s a good thing we—agree so—completely about the standards of conduct proper between the sexes; otherwise it might be a good thing you’re so exceptionally forgiving.’ His voice had an edge of question.
‘Roddy, what are you talking about?’
‘Nothing. A slight emotional conflict,—now resolved.’
He sat up suddenly, brushing some mood all in a minute from his mind and his eyes and his voice. He lit another cigarette and started paddling.
Supposing Roddy had been going to say: ‘Kiss me?’ ... Better not to think about it.