“Yes, I do think so,” he said gravely.
“Well, I’m not,” I declared. “Besides, I’m going to be an actress, and
actresses can do lots of things other people get shocked about. Mr.
Davis says they are privileged to be unconventional.”
“You, an actress!” he exclaimed. He said the word as if it were
something disgraceful, like Ada might have said it.
“Yes,” I returned. “I’ll die if I can’t be one.”
“Whatever put such an idea in your head. You’re just a refined,
innocent, sweet, adorable little girl, far too sweet and pure and
lovely to live such a dirty life.”
He was leaning over me in the sleigh, and holding my hand under the fur
robe. I thought to myself: “Neither St. Vidal nor Colonel Stevens would
make love as thrillingly as he can, and he’s certainly the handsomest
person I’ve ever seen.”
I felt his arm going about my waist, and his young face come close to
mine. I knew he was going to kiss me, and I had never been kissed
before. I became agitated and frightened. I twisted around and pulled
away from him so that despite his efforts to reach my lips his mouth
grazed, instead, my ear. Much as I really liked it, I said with as much
hauteur as I could command:
“Sir, you have no right to do that. How dare you?”
He drew back, and replied coldly:
“I beg your pardon, I’m sure. I did not mean to offend you.”
He hadn’t offended me at all, and I was debating how on earth I was to
let him know he hadn’t, and at the same time keep him at the “proper
distance” as Ada would say, when we stopped in front of our house. He
helped me out, and lifting his hat loftily, was bidding me good-bye when
I said shyly:
“M-Mr. Bertie, you--you d-didn’t offend me.”
Instantly he moved up to me and eagerly seized my hand. His face looked
radiant, and I did think him the most beautiful man I had ever seen.
With a boyish chuckle, he said:
“I’m coming to see you to-morrow night. May I?”