There was none,—quite a boon from the lips you adore
When you 're hungry for love.
She (coquetting): Or who knows but it might—
He: Yes, it might blot from life every semblance of light
As the clouds blot the moon on a storm-troubled night.
But tell me.
She: He did.
He: And your answer was?
She: No.
He: You mean it, or are you coquetting yet?