Do you hear me, Louis ?" He laughed and watched her as she went swiftly and gracefully about the table arrangement, glancing up at him from moment to moment.
"The idea," she repeated, indignantly.

"I guess I'll kiss you when I choose to.

You are not in holy orders, are you?
You haven't made any particular vows, have you-- ?" "One." She halted, looked at him, then went on with her labours, a delicate colour flushing face and neck.
"Where in the world is that salad, Louis?
A hungry girl asks you! Don't drive me to desperation--" "Are we going to have coffee ?" "No, it will keep us awake all night! I believe you _are_ bent on my destruction." And, as she hovered over the table, she hummed the latest popular summer-roof ballad: "'Stand back! Go 'way! I can no longer stay Although you are a Marquis or a Earl! You may tempt the upper classes With your villainous demi-tasses But-- Heaven will protect the Working Girl!'" At length everything was ready.

He had placed two chairs opposite one another, but she wouldn't have it, and made him lug up a bench, lay a cushion on it, and sit beside her.
They behaved foolishly; she fed him strawberries at intervals, discreetly, on a fork--and otherwise.
"Think of it! Fruit--at three in the morning, Louis! I hope Heaven will protect _this_ working girl....

No, dear, I'd rather not have any champagne....