“D’you know, Mrs. Carey has been scolding
me on your account?” said Miss
Wilkinson, when they were sauntering through the kitchen
garden. “She says
I mustn’t flirt with you.”
“Have you been flirting with me? I hadn’t
noticed it.”
“She was only joking.”
“It was very unkind of you to refuse to kiss
me last night.”
“If you saw the look your uncle gave me when
I said what I did!”
“Was that all that prevented you?”
“I prefer to kiss people without witnesses.”
“There are no witnesses now.”
Philip put his arm round her waist and kissed her
lips. She only laughed a little and made no attempt
to withdraw. It had come quite naturally.
Philip was very proud of himself. He said he would,
and he had. It was the easiest thing in the world.
He wished he had done it before. He did it again.
“Oh, you mustn’t,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because I like it,” she laughed.
Next day after dinner they took their rugs and cushions
to the fountain, and their books; but they did not
read. Miss Wilkinson made herself comfortable
and she opened the red sun-shade. Philip was not
at all shy now, but at first she would not let him
kiss her.
“It was very wrong of me last night,”
she said. “I couldn’t sleep, I felt
I’d done so wrong.”
“What nonsense!” he cried. “I’m
sure you slept like a top.”
“What do you think your uncle would say if he
knew?”
“There’s no reason why he should know.”
He leaned over her, and his heart went pit-a-pat.
“Why d’you want to kiss me?”
He knew he ought to reply: “Because I love
you.” But he could not bring himself to
say it.
“Why do you think?” he asked instead.
She looked at him with smiling eyes and touched his
face with the tips of her fingers.
“How smooth your face is,” she murmured.
“I want shaving awfully,” he said.
It was astonishing how difficult he found it to make
romantic speeches. He found that silence helped
him much more than words. He could look inexpressible
things. Miss Wilkinson sighed.
“Do you like me at all?”
“Yes, awfully.”
When he tried to kiss her again she did not resist.
He pretended to be much more passionate than he really
was, and he succeeded in playing a part which looked
very well in his own eyes.
“I’m beginning to be rather frightened
of you,” said Miss Wilkinson.
“You’ll come out after supper, won’t
you?” he begged.
“Not unless you promise to behave yourself.”
“I’ll promise anything.”
He was catching fire from the flame he was partly
simulating, and at tea-time he was obstreperously
merry. Miss Wilkinson looked at him nervously.
“You mustn’t have those shining eyes,”
she said to him afterwards. “What will
your Aunt Louisa think?”
