Титан

Airs from the Orient

           Youareanartist,truly,andIhavebeensobusyIhavescarcelyseenit.Tellmeonething."

           "Yes."

           Shedrewinasoftbreath,fillingherchestandexpandingherbosom,whileshelookedathimfromunderherblackhair.Herhandswerecrossedidlyinherlap.Thenshelookeddemurelydown.

           "Look,Stephanie!Lookup!Iwanttoaskyousomething.Youhaveknownsomethingofmeforoverayear.Doyoulikeme?"

           "Ithinkyou’reverywonderful,"shemurmured.

           "Isthatall?"

           "Isn’tthatmuch?"shesmiled,shootingadull,black-opallookinhisdirection.

           "Youworemybraceletto-day.Wereyouverygladtogetit?"

           "Ohyes,"shesighed,withaspiratedbreath,pretendingakindofsuffocation.

           "Howbeautifulyoureallyare!"hesaid,risingandlookingdownather.

           Sheshookherhead.

           "No."

           "Yes!"

           "No."

           "Come,Stephanie!Standbymeandlookatme.Youaresotallandslenderandgraceful.YouarelikesomethingoutofAsia."

           Shesighed,turninginasinuousway,asheslippedhisarmher."Idon’tthinkweshould,shouldwe?"sheasked,naively,afteramoment,pullingawayfromhim.

           "Stephanie!"

           "IthinkI’dbettergo,now,please."

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