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XXXIV

ext day after dinner they took their rugs and cushions
Nto the fountain, and their books; but they did not read.
Miss Wilkinson made herself comfortable and she opened
the red sun-shade. Philip was not at all shy now, but at first
she would not let him kiss her.
‘It was very wrong of me last night,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t
sleep, I felt I’d done so wrong.’
‘What nonsense!’ he cried. ‘I’m sure you slept like a top.’
‘What do you think your uncle would say if he knew?’
‘There’s no reason why he should know.’
He leaned over her, and his heart went pit-a-pat.
‘Why d’you want to kiss me?’
He knew he ought to reply: ‘Because I love you.’ But he
could not bring himself to say it.
‘Why do you think?’ he asked instead.
She looked at him with smiling eyes and touched his face
with the tips of her fingers.
‘How smooth your face is,’ she murmured.
‘I want shaving awfully,’ he said.
It was astonishing how difficult he found it to make ro-
mantic speeches. He found that silence helped him much
more than words. He could look inexpressible things. Miss
Wilkinson sighed.
‘Do you like me at all?’

Of Human Bondage