"I'm not married," I said.
The lid flew up.
I did not know a kiss _could_ feel like that. The Embankment sort of
slid away from under it and us. I think it lasted for hours.
We looked at each other blankly.
"Pam," he said shakily, queerly, "you kissed me--did you know you kissed
me?"
I nodded. I felt as if half of me stood there and the other half was
slowly unwrapping itself from the kiss.
"You kissed me as if--as if----"
"I know," I said.
"I didn't think that any woman in the world could kiss like that," he
said. "My God! I didn't think it! Pam, are we both crazy?"
"Yes," I said.
His eyes began to flicker and twinkle, those curious hazel eyes, not
brown, not yellow, and not readable.
"I want things explained," he said, "and yet I don't want them
explained. You are sure you aren't married?"
"Quite," I said.
"Then, Pam, will you marry me? Oh, Pam!--listen to it--you funny,
exquisite little person! Listen to it!--doesn't it sound
gorgeous!--Heaven!--_you_ married to _me_! Did you ever like anything in
the world as much as the sound of that, my sweet?"
"No," I whispered.
He put his face down to mine. I was trembling and crying; his face was
wet.
"I love you so!" he whispered. "I love you so's I could eat you, and
yet I'm scared to touch you--that's _how_ I love you, you exquisite baby
thing!" He laughed and kissed my hands. "I'm plum crazy with
happiness," he confessed. "You'll have to be sane for the two of us.
What shall we do, sweetheart, what shall we do?"
"Walk on--and I'll explain things."
"And every time we come to a shadow I'll kiss you."
"Only big ones, then. Which way shall we go?"
"Towards the Houses of Parliament."
"Why?"
"I see a shadow," he said.
I have always been scared of shadows, but if all the murderers and
thieves in the world nestled in the shadows that night, I did not know.
I did not care.
_I did not see_.