... What was it about some novelty--some
article? If there's anything I could do--anything--"
"Article?"
"Why, yes. That you wanted to see me about."
"Oh! Oh, that was just to get rid of Carson.... His
_insufferable_ familiarity! The penalty for my having been a
naive kiddy, hungry for friendship, once. And now, good n--.
Oh, Mouse, he says my eyes--even with this green kimono on--
Come here, dear. tell me what color my eyes are."
She moved with a quick swing to the side of her bed. Thrusting
out her two arms, she laid ivory hands clutchingly on his
shoulder. He stood quaking, forgetting every one of the
Wrennish rules by which he had edged a shy polite way through
life. He fearfully reached out his hands toward her shoulders
in turn, but his arms were shorter than hers, and his hands
rested on the sensitive warmth of her upper arms. He peered at
those dear gray-blue eyes of hers, but he could not calm himself
enough to tell whether they were china-blue or basalt-black.
"Tell me," she demanded; "_aren't_ they green?"
"Yes," he quavered.
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