On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. ” So they talked on whilst supper was served, falling easily into the spirit of the place, and yet both of them conscious of some new thing underlying the gaiety of their tongues and manner. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Excuse me an instant while I dismiss this person. I know faces. I'd go for it. “I have answered all your questions,” she said. Activity in the hall intensified. Her unnatural calm was giving way. “Have you ever kissed a guy before?” She rolled the tissue into a ball in her lap and stared at it.
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