“And my answer, royal Hebe, is this.” His hot lips met hers again in abandonment to the racing passion in him.
“You—barbarian,” she gasped, pushing him away.
“Perhaps. But the man who is going to marry you.”
She looked at him with a flash of almost shy curiosity that had the charm of an untasted sensation. “Would you beat me?”
“I don't know.” He still breathed unevenly. “I'd teach you how to live.”
“And love?” She was beginning to recover her lightness of tone, though the warm color still dabbed her cheeks.
“Why not?” His eyes were diamond bright. “Why not? You have never known the great moments, the buoyant zest of living in the land that belongs only to the Heirs o Life.”
“And can you guide me there?” The irony in her voice was not untouched with wistfulness.
“Try me.”
She laughed softly, stepped to the table, and chose a cigarette. “My friend, you promise impossibilities. I was not born to that incomparable company. To be frank, neither were you. Alice, grant you, belongs there. And that mad cousin of yours. But not we two earth creepers. We're neither of us star dwellers. In the meantime”—she lit her Egyptian and stopped to make sure of her light every moment escaping more definitely from the glamor of his passion—“you mentioned an engagement that was imperative. Don't let me keep you from it.”