“Very, very, deeply,” he said in a low voice.
The dressing-bell rang and Clementina rose. “Put up your shop, darling. It’s time to go to bed.” Then she crossed to Quixtus’s chair and stood behind him and laid one arm on his shoulder. He kissed her hand.
“Well?” said he, looking up.
“I’ll tell you presently,” she said, and in withdrawing her hand, she lightly brushed his cheek.
Quixtus dressed quickly and came down early to the drawing-room, and soon Clementina appeared. She was wearing a red dress which she had bought during her wholesale purchasing of raiment, but had never yet worn, thinking it too flaring, and she had a red dahlia in her hair. Quixtus took both her hands and raised them to his shoulders, and she stood away from him at the distance of her bare; shapely arms, and she smiled into his eyes.
“Your answer?” said he.
“Tell me,” she said. “What do you really want me for?”
“For yourself,” he cried, and he caught her in his arms with swift passion and kissed her.
“If you hadn’t said that,” she remarked a few moments afterwards, “I don’t know what my answer would have been. At any rate,” she added, touching her hair with uplifted hands, “it would not have been quite so spontaneous.”
He leaned his elbow on the mantelpiece and a great light came into his pale blue eyes as he looked at her.