His strained face relaxed. "That's all right, then," he said.
"I'm dining in Hampstead in about ten minutes," said Kitty. "I must get the tube at Leicester Square."
"A taxi," said the Minister, "would be better. Here is a taxi. I shall come too, in case there is another mischance, which you will hardly be fit for alone at present." He mopped his mouth.
"You have bitten your tongue," said Kitty, "in spite of all you said about not protruding it."
"It was while I was saying it," said the Minister, "that the contact occurred. Yes. It is painful."
They got into the taxi. The Minister, with his scarlet-stained handkerchief to his lips, mumbled, "That was a very disagreeable shock. You were very pale. I feared the worst."
"The worst," said Kitty, "always passes me by. It always has. I am like that."
"I am not," he said. "I am not. I have bitten my tongue and fallen in love. Both bad things."
He spoke so indistinctly that Kitty was not sure she heard him rightly.
"And I," she said, "only feel a little sick.... No, don't be anxious; it won't develop."