The newspapers say such queer things.

Is it true that I really am entertaining a possible future Prime Minister ?" "I suppose that might be," he answered, a little vaguely, his eyes still fixed upon her.

"So this is your room.

I like it.

And I like--" "Well, go on, please," she begged.
"I like the softness of your gown, and I like the fur against your throat and neck, and I like those buckles on your shoes, and the way you do your hair." She laughed, gracefully enough, yet with some return to that note of uneasiness.
"You mustn't turn my head!" she protested.