“Yes?”
“Up to now I have never kissed you.”
She was as scarlet as if he had put the thing most indelicately.
“No — more you have,” she stammered.
“Then I ask you — may I now?”
“Of course, you may, Cecil. You might before. I can't run at you, you know.”
At that supreme moment he was conscious of nothing but absurdities. Her reply was inadequate. She gave such a business-like lift to her veil. As he approached her he found time to wish that he could recoil. As he touched her, his gold pince-nez became dislodged and was flattened between them.