“Oh,” she shrugged disdainfully, “is that all?”
“No. You have beautiful teeth and hair—such hair!”
“You mustn’t grow sentimental,” she commented, not removing her hand.
I slipped my arm about her waist and she moved nervously.
“And you still can’t guess who?” I said finally.
“No,” she replied, keeping her face from me.
“Then I’ll tell you,” and putting my free hand to her cheek I turned her face to me.
I studied her closely, and then in a moment the last shred of reluctance and coquetry in her seemed to evaporate. At the touch of my hand on her cheek she seemed to change: the whole power of her ardent nature was rising. At last she seemed to be yielding completely, and I put my lips to hers and kissed her warmly, then pressed her close and held her.
“Now do you know?” I asked after a time.
“Yes,” she nodded, and for a proffered kiss returned an ardent one of her own.