"May I put it to some useful purpose—may I do what I like with it?"
"Yes, you may," then she added with a smile: "There is no thorn in it now."
I kissed it many times on the back, the palm, the wrist then bestowed a separate caress on each finger-tip.
"Why do you kiss my hand?" she asked.
"Do you not know—can you not guess? Because it is the sweetest thing I can kiss, except one other thing. Shall I tell you——"
"My face? And why do you not kiss that?"
"Oh, may I?" said I, and drawing her to me I kissed her soft cheek. "May I kiss the other cheek now?" I asked. She turned it to me, and when I had kissed it rapturously, I gazed into her eyes, which looked back, bright and unabashed, into mine. "I think—I think I made a slight mistake, Yoletta," I said. "What I meant to ask was, will you let me kiss you where I like—on your chin, for instance, or just where I like?"
"Yes; but you are keeping me too long. Kiss me as many times as you like, and then let us admire the prospect."
I drew her closer and kissed her mouth, not once nor twice, but clinging to it with all the ardor of passion, as if my lips had become glued to hers.
Suddenly she disengaged herself from me. "Why do you kiss my mouth in that violent way?" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed. "You seem like some hungry animal that wanted to devour me."