“I didn’t close my eyes, either.”
It was a perfectly sincere statement on both sides and perfectly untrue in both cases. Both had slept enviably most of the time they thought they were awake. Sheila tried to make conversation:
“What was on your mind?”
“You!”
His words filled her with delicious fright. On the lofty hill under the low-hanging moon he had scared love off by attempted caresses. With one word he brought love back in a rose-clouded mantle that gave their communion a solitude there on the noisy street with the cars brawling by and the crowds passing and peering, people nudging and whispering: “That’s her! That’s Sheila Kemble! Ain’t she pretty? She’s just grand in the new show! Saw it yet?”
They stood in gawky speechlessness till he said, “Which way you going?”
“I have some shopping to do.”
“Oh! Too bad. I was going to ask you to take a little spin.”
They span.