“Yes,” he said, with a sudden laugh—the transition was so abrupt. “I was too slack to shave in South Africa. Don’t you like it?”
“Oh, not at all. It spoils you.”
“I will cut it off at once.”
“Not just to please me?”
“Just to please you. It will be a new sensation.”
“To have it off?”
“No—to please you, Yvonne.”
Her eyes smiled gratefully at him.
“Tell me when I must go,” he said, after a while. “I must n’t tire you. And you may have other visitors.”
“Don’t go yet. No one else will come.”