Her half-closed eyes mocked him with their old impishness. “But you mustn’t hold me like that. It isn’t done in the best families--not in public, anyway--even by the oldest friends.” She broke from him and stepped into the car. “Let’s be nice to each other. We haven’t been very nice yet.” Very nice! He’d sat up all night and tossed his holiday plans to the winds for her. He grinned to himself as he cranked the engine. This was the same Desire with a vengeance--the old Desire who had tried to make people ask pardon when she was the offender. They were traveling again. His hands were occupied; he could make love to her with nothing more alarming than words. She felt safe to lower her defenses. “You were just a little judging last night.” “Was I?” “Just a little. About Fluffy. You don’t even know her We were stupid to quarrel.” “It wasn’t as bad as that.” “It was. You were, oh, so extremely righteous. But I’d have been just as angry in your defense, or any one else’s whom I liked. I make a loyal little friend.” “Would you truly quarrel in my defense?” She patted his hand where it rested on the wheel “Of course I would. But last night you hurt me so much that---- I wonder if I dare tell you. You see, it hurt all the more because we’d only just met. I pretended----” He finished her sentence: “To be asleep.” She bit her lip. “Yes.” “Then you heard?” “Heard what?” “What I said when I buttoned your cloak about you?” She made her eyes innocently wide. “Did you do that? That was kind.” She was dodging him. He knew it; yet he wondered. Had she heard him whisper that he loved her? If she had---- He glanced sideways; all he saw was the gleam of her throat through her blowy hair. His mind went back across the years. How much he had lost of her--a child then, a woman now! If they were to bridge the gulf, it would be wiser to start with memories. “I found what you’d written on the window--found it next morning, after you’d left.” “Did I write anything? It’s so long ago. How wonderful that you should have remembered!” “Not wonderful at all. If you’d meant it, you’d remember.” She had gone too far with her evasions. Snuggling closer, their shoulders touching, she bent across him till their eyes met. “I did mean it then. But you shouldn’t expect a girl to own it. I can prove to you that I meant it. I wrote, ’I love you,’ and then, lower down, ’I love you.’ I’ve--I’ve often thought about you, and about---- What times we had! D’you remember the bird-catcher and Bones? Poor Bones! How jealous you were of him, and I expect he’s dead.” She laughed: “So you needn’t be jealous any longer. And d’you remember how I would bathe? Shocking, wasn’t it? I thought it would change me from a girl to a boy. And how I called you King Arthur once, and made you angry? I think---- No, you won’t like me to say that.” He urged her.