'I've hardly seen you, darling.'
'Why, I've let you stay _all_ day,' I say reproachfully.
'Yes, but I haven't really had you; you've eluded me. You drive me mad,
Meg, with your little air of cool aloofness.'
But what would he? Is a woman to be done out of her wooing because a
man chose once to be a caveman and talked of things belonging to him,
before he'd even got them? So naturally I tilt my chin a little when he
talks like that, and hold out my hand to say good-night, and watch out
of the tail of my eye to see how he is liking it! But sometimes
it's----'
'No, I won't stand _any_ more of it to-night.' and then follows that
mastering kiss which makes me really his for just that moment, and sends
my thoughts and feelings whirling so that I try the harder to elude him
afterwards!
One day this week I felt unusually romantic, so I read the Sonnets from
the Portuguese.
'Oh, beautiful, Elizabeth,' I said, 'but simple, when you come to think
of it. I'm sure that I could write one just as good, and I love my man
every bit as much as you did Robert.'