He made an effort to appear as light-hearted as she.
“But I am,” he assured her. “It is delightful to see you again.”
“It’s no more delightful than for me to see you,” she returned.
“Really?” he returned. “Isn’t it curious that when you like people you may not see them for a year, but when you do, you begin just where you left off.”
“Where did we leave off?” she demanded with a smile.
“Why—in Paris,” he said with a trace of embarrassment. “You don’t want to forget our Paris, I hope?”
“Never,” she cried, enthusiastically. “It was there we found that we really were congenial. We are, aren’t we?”
“Congenial?” he repeated. “We’re more than that—we’re—”
She interrupted him. “And yet, somehow, you’ve changed a lot since Paris.”
“For better or for worse?” he asked.