thought of himself burying his face in the rippling masses of her auburn hair. He could not imagine himself burying his face in Miss Wilkinson's hair, it always struck him as a little sticky. All the same it would be very satisfactory to have an intrigue, and he thrilled with the legitimate pride he would enjoy in his conquest. He owed it to himself to seduce her. He made up his mind to kiss Miss Wilkinson; not then, but in the evening; it would be easier in the dark, and after he had kissed her the rest would follow. He would kiss her that very evening. He swore an oath to that effect.
He laid his plans. After supper he suggested that they should take a stroll in the garden. Miss Wilkinson accepted, and they sauntered side by side. Philip was very nervous. He did not know why, but the conversation would not lead in the right direction; he had decided that the first thing to do was to put his arm round her waist; but he could not suddenly put his arm round her waist when she was talking of the regatta which was to be held next week. He led her artfully into the darkest parts of the garden, but having arrived there his courage failed him. They sat on a bench, and he had really made up his mind that here was his opportunity when Miss Wilkinson said she was sure there were earwigs and insisted on moving. They walked round the garden once more, and Philip promised himself he would take the plunge before they arrived at that bench again; but as they passed the house, they saw Mrs. Carey standing at the door.
"Hadn't you young people better come in? I'm sure the night air isn't good for you." "Perhaps we had better go in," said Philip. "I don't want you to catch cold."
He said it with a sigh of relief. He could attempt nothing more that night. But afterwards, when he was alone in his room, he was fu-
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rious with himself. He had been a perfect fool. He was certain that Miss Wilkinson expected him to kiss her, otherwise she wouldn't have come into the garden. She was always saying that only Frenchmen knew how to treat women. Philip had read French novels. If he had been a Frenchman he would have seized her in his arms and told her passionately that he adored her; he would have pressed his lips on her nuque. He did not know why Frenchmen always kissed ladies on the nuque. He did not himself see anything so very attractive in the nape of the neck. Of course it was much easier for Frenchmen to do these things; the language was such an aid; Philip could never help feeling that to say passionate things in English sounded a little absurd. He wished now that he had never un-dertaken the siege of Miss Wilkinson's virtue; the first fortnight had been so jolly, and now he was wretched; but he was determined not to give in, he would never respect himself again if he did, and he made up his mind irrevocably that the next night he would kiss her without fail.
Next day when he got up he saw it was raining, and his first thought was that they would not be able to go into the garden that evening. He was in high spirits at breakfast. Miss Wilkinson sent Mary Ann in to say that she had a headache and would remain in bed. She did not come down till tea-time, when she appeared in a becoming wrapper and a pale face; but she was quite recovered
by supper, and the meal was very cheerful. After prayers she said she would go straight to bed, and she kissed Mrs. Carey. Then she turned to Philip.
"Good gracious!" she cried. "I was just going to kiss you too." "Why don't you?" he said.
She laughed and held out her hand. She distinctly pressed his.
The following day there was not a cloud in the sky, and the garden was sweet and fresh after the rain. Philip went down to the beach to bathe and when he came home ate a magnificent dinner. They were having a tennis party at the vicarage in the afternoon and Miss Wilkinson put on her best dress. She certainly knew how to wear her clothes, and Philip could not help noticing how elegant she looked beside the curate's wife and the doctor's married daughter. There were two roses in her waistband. She sat in a garden chair by the side of the lawn, holding a red parasol over herself, and the light on her face was very becoming. Philip was fond of tennis. He served well and as he ran clumsily played close to the net: notwithstanding his club-foot he was quick, and it was difficult to get a ball past him. He was pleased because he won all his sets. At tea he lay down at Miss Wilkinson's feet, hot and panting.
"Flannels suit you," she said. "You look very nice this afternoon." He blushed with delight.
"I can honestly return the compliment. You look perfectly ravishing." She smiled and gave him a long look with her black eyes.
After supper he insisted that she should come out. "Haven't you had enough exercise for one day?"
"It'll be lovely in the garden tonight. The stars are all out." He was in high spirits.
"D'you know, Mrs. Carey has been scolding me on your account?" said Miss Wilkinson, when they were sauntering through the kitchen garden. "She says I mustn't flirt with you."
"Have you been flirting with me? I hadn't noticed it."
"She was only joking."
"It was very unkind of you to refuse to kiss me last night."
"If you saw the look your uncle gave me when I said what I did!"
"Was that all that prevented you?"
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"I prefer to kiss people without witnesses." "There are no witnesses now."
Philip put his arm round her waist and kissed her lips. She only laughed a little and made no attempt to withdraw. It had come quite naturally. Philip was very proud of himself. He said he would, and he had. It was the easiest thing in the world. He wished he had done it before. He did it again.
"Oh, you mustn't," she said. "Why not?"
"Because I like it," she laughed. XXXIV
Next day after dinner they took their rugs and cushions to 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 romantic 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?"
"Yes, awfully."
When he tried to kiss her again she did not resist. He pretended to be much more passionate than he really was, and he succeeded in playing a part which looked very well in his own eyes.
"I'm beginning to be rather frightened of you," said Miss Wilkinson. "You'll come out after supper, won't you?" he begged.
"Not unless you promise to behave yourself."
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"I'll promise anything."
He was catching fire from the flame he was partly simulating, and at tea-time he was obstreperously merry. Miss Wilkinson looked at
him nervously.
"You mustn't have those shining eyes," she said to him afterwards. "What will your Aunt Louisa think?" "I don't care what she thinks."
Miss Wilkinson gave a little laugh of pleasure. They had no sooner finished supper than he said to her:
"Are you going to keep me company while I smoke a cigarette?"
"Why don't you let Miss Wilkinson rest?" said Mrs. Carey. "You must remember she's