'Yes,' she said, as if submissively.
And she continued to nestle against him.
But in a little while she drew away and looked at him.
'I must be going home,' she said.
'Must you--how sad,' he replied.
She leaned forward and put up her mouth to be kissed.
'Are you really sad?' she murmured, smiling.
'Yes,' he said, 'I wish we could stay as we were, always.'
'Always! Do you?' she murmured, as he kissed her. And then, out of a
full throat, she crooned 'Kiss me! Kiss me!' And she cleaved close to
him. He kissed her many times. But he too had his idea and his will. He
wanted only gentle communion, no other, no passion now. So that soon
she drew away, put on her hat and went home.
The next day however, he felt wistful and yearning. He thought he had
been wrong, perhaps. Perhaps he had been wrong to go to her with an
idea of what he wanted. Was it really only an idea, or was it the
interpretation of a profound yearning? If the latter, how was it he was
always talking about sensual fulfilment? The two did not agree very
well.
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