"It isn't--all my fault, Billikins," she whispered, wistfully, "that men treat me--lightly." He set his teeth.

"It must be your fault," he declared, firmly.

"You can help it if you try." She turned her face more fully to his.

"How grim you look, darling! You haven't kissed me for quite five minutes." "I feel more like whipping you," he said, grimly.
She leapt in his arms as if he had been about to put his words into action.

"Oh, no!" she cried.