"Joan," he said, and held out his hands in supplication.
"Don't you think we ought to drive home now ?" she asked.
"Home ?" "Yes.

It must be getting late." "Not yet," he said, steadying his voice.

"Time is ours.

Don't hurry." He went down suddenly on to his knees and kissed her feet.
At any other time, in any other mood, the action would have stirred her sense of the ridiculous.

She would have laughed and whipped him with sarcasm.