‘Last time we met,’ he said, his eyes on her, ‘we had a very serious conversation.’
‘Ah, I thought you’d forgotten that.’
She felt herself tremble slightly.
‘No. No.’ His fixed gaze never wavered from her face; and she could not move. She looked down and saw, on the writing-table, a white square and the name Anthony Baring, Esq., on it. Roddy had a delicate and graceful hand-writing.
‘There’s the car,’ he whispered.
‘Oh, I must go.’
‘Come this way, through the garden door.’
He got up and put his arm round her and led her towards the door, clasping her close to him. The reddish light pressed, whispering and furtive.
‘You kissed me last time,’ he murmured. ‘Will you kiss me again?’
She swiftly kissed his cheek.