She stood with her hands behind her back, looking up at him with an
expression he could not fathom. Suddenly she advanced, put up her lips
and said gravely,

"Won't you kiss me?"

He eyed her quizzically. "Oh--you've changed your mind?"

She shook her head.

"Then why do you ask me to kiss you?"

"Because of what you said about father."

He laughed and kissed her. And then she, too, laughed. He said, "Not for
my own sake--not a little bit?"

"Oh, yes," she cried, "when you kiss me that way. I like to be kissed. I
am very affectionate."

He laughed again. "You _are_ a queer one. If it's a game, it's a good one.
Is it a game?"

"I don't know," said she gayly. "Good night. This is dreadfully late for
me."

"Good night," he said, and they shook hands. "Do you like me better--or
less?"

"Better," was her prompt, apparently honest reply.