"It was silly. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. She cursed herself for a fool. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. “If I was the world I think I should have put down a crimson carpet, and asked you to say what you wanted, and generally walk over me. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. He agreed it was disgraceful. Say something. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00.
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