"I'm dining in Hampstead in about ten minutes," said Kitty. "I must get the tube at Leicester Square." "A taxi," said the Minister, "would be better. Here is a taxi. I shall come too, in case there is another mischance, which you will hardly be fit for alone at present." He mopped his mouth. "You have bitten your tongue," said Kitty, "in spite of all you said about not protruding it." "It was while I was saying it," said the Minister, "that the contact occurred. Yes. It is painful." They got into the taxi. The Minister, with his scarlet-stained handkerchief to his lips, mumbled, "That was a very disagreeable shock. You were very pale. I feared the worst." "The worst," said Kitty, "always passes me by. It always has. I am like that." "I am not," he said. "I am not. I have bitten my tongue and fallen in love. Both bad things." He spoke so indistinctly that Kitty was not sure she heard him rightly. "And I," she said, "only feel a little sick.... No, don't be anxious; it won't develop." The Minister looked at her as she powdered her face before the strip of mirror. "I wouldn't put that on," he advised her. "You are looking too pale, already." "Quite," said Kitty. "It's pink powder, you see. It will make me feel more myself." "You need nothing," he told her gravely. "You are all right as you are. It is fortunate that it is you and not I who are going out to dinner. I couldn't talk. I can't talk now. I can't even tell you what I feel about you." "Don't try," she counselled him, putting away her powder-puff and not looking at him. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, looking at her with his pained-humorist's face and watchful eyes. "I expect you know I've fallen in love with you?" he mumbled. "I didn't mean to; in fact, I've tried not to, since I began to notice what was occurring. It's excessively awkward. But ... I have not been able to avoid it." Kitty said "Oh," and swallowed a laugh. One didn't laugh when one was receiving an avowal of love, of course. She felt giddy, and seas seemed to rush past her ears. "There are a good many things to talk about in connection with this," said the Minister. "But it is no use talking about them unless I first know what you feel about it--about me, that is. Will you tell me, if you don't mind?" He asked it gently, considerately, almost humbly. Kitty, who did mind rather, said "Oh," again, and lay back in her corner. She still felt a little dizzy, and her head ached. It is not nice having to say what one feels; one would rather the other person did it all. But this is not fair or honourable. She remembered this and pulled herself together. "I expect," she said, swinging her glasses by their ribbon, cool and yet nervous, "I expect I feel pretty much the same as you do about it."