I lifted her to her feet, and rose and turned away, laughing unsteadily.
“No, my dear,” said I, “that would be—unsuitable.”
The bathos of the word made me laugh louder. Carlotta, aware that a joke was in the air, joined in my mirth, and her laughter rang fresh.
“What is the suitable way of kissing?”
I took her hand and saluted it in an eighteenth century manner.
“This,” said I.
“Oh-h,” said Carlotta. “That is so dull.” She caught up Polyphemus and buried her face in his fur. “That’s the way I should like to be kissed.”
“The man you love, my dear,” said I, “will doubtless do it.”
She made a little grimace.
“Oh, then, I shall have to wait such a long time.”