He held her a little closer, and answered with another question: "Did you ever see cherries growing?"
"Yes, Bob."
"And did ever you notice that folks put nets over them to keep the birds from pecking them?"
"Yes, Bob."
"Do you think they'd be able to resist the temptation of touching them if they could see them looking so tempting, so sweet and beautiful, if they wasn't protected?"
"I dare say not."
"Well,"—he turned and looked at her for a moment—"I'm like the birds, and your lips are the cherries. I mustn't look or I shall be tempted."
She flushed all over her face and neck, then into her eyes laughter stole.
"Did it ever strike you that perhaps the cherries were made for the birds to peck?" she said, half nervously.
He looked at her once more; the bronze colour faded from his face, his great chest heaved.