“Suppose,” said he darkly, “that they are minors?”
“I really don’t care if they are,” cried I, with great courage. “They have acted far less like minors than we have.”
“Suppose—” he began again.
“Pelleas,” I said, “how did you say that advertisement was to be? ‘Pelleas and Etarre, Promoters of Love Stories Unlimited—’”
“Ah, yes, that’s all very well,” he insisted, “but suppose—”
“And who was it,” I pursued, “who was half persuaded that the world is the shape of a heart?”
“I’m afraid it was I,” Pelleas admitted then, shaking his head.
But I could see that his eyes were without remorse.
V
THE DANCE