“Come along, Nicky, don’t be so cantankerous.”
His hand registered the surprise he felt in the fervor of its clutch:
“But you are so colt!”
She insinuated, “You couldn’t expect me to make love to you the very first thing, could you?”
“You mean you do like me?”
Her hands wringing his told the lie her tongue refused. And he, encouraged and determined to prove his rating with her, flung his arm about her again and drew her, resisting only in her soul, close to him.