"Eric!" she cried with reproachful warning, though he felt that she was enjoying the thin ice on to which they had glided.
As a smile dimpled its way into her cheeks, he tired of the badinage.
"Well, did you have a good time, Babs?" he asked abruptly.
"Good? M'well.… I travelled the whole way with all the clothes in the world wrapped round my throat and chest. When I woke up just beyond Marseilles, it was so hot that I threw off one thing after another, until I'd got down to a blouse and skirt. Next morning, there was a glorious hot sun.… I jumped out of bed and ran bare-foot into the verandah and stood there—don't be shocked, darling!—in my night-gown, stretching out my arms to gather all the heavenly warmth. I couldn't have coughed if you'd paid me to. It was divine, but I suddenly discovered there was one thing wanting. Can you guess what it was?"
"From your description, most things were wanting."
"Darling, if you're prosaic, I just shan't talk to you. I discovered that I wanted some one to share it with. If you knew the glorious feeling of standing bare-foot on hot marble! I wanted you, Eric! I always want you when I'm happy, because I must share my happiness with some one; and I want you when I'm unhappy, because I'm too proud to shew my unhappiness to any one who doesn't love me. I hate the second-best and I'm so glad to see you again!"
Eric considered her with his head on one side and his hands in his pockets, cautiously and without committing himself.
"Well, Babs, if you don't always have me at hand for all your moods and all your needs——"
"Yes?"
He turned away to knock the ash from his cigarette and to avoid a possible change of expression in her eyes.