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He controlled his voice with an effort, and, leaning forward, said:

“Go on. I didn’t mean to draw away. You may do what you like.”

“No, I don’t want to, now.” Alison was hurt, and would not look at him. When she did look, it was her turn to draw away—not outwardly—she remained calm and almost severe, for her, but inwardly she was much disturbed. It was her eyes that fell before the boy’s, and since the situation, absurd though it was, seemed uncomfortably strained, and its very unexpectedness had destroyed her ability to cope with it, she made some excuse about housekeeping matters and went away. Once outside the door, she drew a deep breath and gave herself a little shake.

“Oh, dear! Surely it’s not going to be that? The absurd boy—he’s the merest child. Oh, no, no, no, it would be too annoying—for me to work so hard and get so many rebuffs, and then to get on so nicely, only to end like this! Who would ever dream—How Winthrop would tease me! I certainly won’t tell him a word about it. . . . Oh, little baby that I wanted to cuddle, surely you’re not going to spoil everything like this?—surely not. Oh, Tony dear, how ridiculous of you! Did I imagine it all? No, I couldn’t have—I honestly never thought of such a thing. How badly he wanted actually to kiss me, poor darling!”

An irresistible laugh bubbled up.

“Well, I said I’d make him like me!—but no, it isn’t funny at all—it’s too bad, and I’m very, very annoyed about it. He’ll just have to get over it, that’s all—but now I’ll have to begin to be careful all over again, and for quite a different reason. I do think it’s too bad. And Winthrop won’t be a bit sympathetic. I shan’t tell him, anyway. . . . Oh, Tony, Tony!—you silly little boy!”