"Then I risked the other part, 'sas agapo'—and expected a box on the ear, or perhaps an appeal to her father, but instead she turned and kissed me!"
"Hurrah, Uncle Julian, I'm sure so should I—if any one had the sense to talk to me like that, low and in my ear (that tickles anyway) and in an unknown tongue."
"But you see the point was that the tongue was not unknown to her. She was a Greek girl and—"
"But what, after all, did it mean? She told you afterwards, of course."
"Well," said Uncle Julian, meditating, "not exactly. I found out. I had said, 'Zoë mine, I love you!"
"But what does 'Zoë' mean?"
"My life!"
"Life of mine, I love you!" Patsy repeated, trying various tones. "Uncle Julian, you must have made love like an archangel. Without knowing it, you had said about all that there was to say, and changing your voice like that—oh, I do wish I had been that girl. I don't wonder you don't want to give me the yellow sandals. I should not even have lent them for five minutes. You must not. I shall bring them back to you. It would be a sacrilege!"
"No," said Uncle Julian, "you are the brightest thing in my world, the likest the Greek girl and all the young things I once loved. It is your turn now, you small, black-headed Pictish woman!"
"I am not 'small.' I am taller than you, Uncle Julian!"