“I will be fair, then,” she said confidingly, and looking him full in the face. It was a particular pleasure to her to be able to do a little honesty without fear. “I should not mind your doing so—I should like such an attention. My thought was, would it be right to let you?”
“Then I will!” he rejoined, with that singular earnestness about a small matter—in the eyes of a ladies’ man but a momentary peg for flirtation or jest—which is only found in deep natures who have been wholly unused to toying with womankind, and which, from its unwontedness, is in itself a tribute the most precious that can be rendered, and homage the most exquisite to be received.
“And you shall,” she whispered, without reserve, and no longer mistress of the ceremonies. And then Elfride inclined herself towards him, thrust back her hair, and poised her head sideways. In doing this her arm and shoulder necessarily rested against his breast.
At the touch, the sensation of both seemed to be concentrated at the point of contact. All the time he was performing the delicate manoeuvre Knight trembled like a young surgeon in his first operation.
“Now the other,” said Knight in a whisper.
“No, no.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You must know.”
“Your touch agitates me so. Let us go home.”