But when his lips hunted hers she hid them in her fur collar; and he, imputing it to coquetry, humored her, finding her delicate timidity enhancing and inspiring. He chuckled:
“You shall kiss me yet.”
“Not till you have told me what you sent for me for.”
“No, feerst you must give me one to proof your good fate––your good face––” He was trying to say “good faith.”
She was stubborn, but he was more obstinate still, and he had the advantage of the secret.
And so at last she sighed “All right,” and put up her cheek to pay the price. His arms tightened about her, and his lips were not content with her cheek. He fought to win her lips, but she began to tear off her gloves to scratch his eyes out if need be for release.
She was revolted, and she would have marred his beauty if he had not let her go. Once freed, she regained her self-control, for the sake of her mission, and said, with a mock seriousness:
“Now, be careful, or I won’t listen to you at all.”
Sighing with disappointment, but more determined than ever to make her his, he said:
“Feerst I must esk you, how is your feelink about Chermany?”