'
He lay still and laughed, meditating.
'Well,' he said, 'we can go away--we can go tomorrow. We'll go tomorrow
to Verona, and find Romeo and Juliet, and sit in the
amphitheatre--shall we?'
Suddenly she hid her face against his shoulder with perplexity and
shyness. He lay so untrammelled.
'Yes,' she said softly, filled with relief. She felt her soul had new
wings, now he was so uncaring. 'I shall love to be Romeo and Juliet,'
she said. 'My love!'
'Though a fearfully cold wind blows in Verona,' he said, 'from out of
the Alps. We shall have the smell of the snow in our noses.'
She sat up and looked at him.
'Are you glad to go?' she asked, troubled.
His eyes were inscrutable and laughing. She hid her face against his
neck, clinging close to him, pleading:
'Don't laugh at me--don't laugh at me.'
'Why how's that?' he laughed, putting his arms round her.
'Because I don't want to be laughed at,' she whispered.
He laughed more, as he kissed her delicate, finely perfumed hair.
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