"I wouldn't do it to anyone else," she said, by way of apology. "But I
know I can with you."
"You couldn't give me greater pleasure," he smiled.
She asked him to give her something to eat one evening towards the end of
April.
"All right," he said. "Where would you like to go afterwards?"
"Oh, don't let's go anywhere. Let's just sit and talk. You don't mind, do
you?"
"Rather not."
He thought she must be beginning to care for him. Three months before the
thought of an evening spent in conversation would have bored her to death.
It was a fine day, and the spring added to Philip's high spirits. He was
content with very little now.
"I say, won't it be ripping when the summer comes along," he said, as they
drove along on the top of a 'bus to Soho--she had herself suggested that
they should not be so extravagant as to go by cab. "We shall be able to
spend every Sunday on the river. We'll take our luncheon in a basket."
She smiled slightly, and he was encouraged to take her hand. She did not
withdraw it.
"I really think you're beginning to like me a bit," he smiled.
"You ARE silly, you know I like you, or else I shouldn't be here,
should I?"
They were old customers at the little restaurant in Soho by now, and the
patronne gave them a smile as they came in. The waiter was obsequious.
"Let me order the dinner tonight," said Mildred.
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