When he reached for a magazine she looked over the top of her book at him, then read a little, glanced up, read a little more, and looked at him again.
"Duane ?" "What ?" "This is a fool of a book.

Do you want to read it ?" "No, thanks." "Over my shoulder, I mean ?" He got up, seated himself on the arm of her chair, and looked at the printed page over her shoulder.
For a full minute neither moved; then she turned her head, very slowly, and, looking into his eyes, she rested her lips on his.
"My darling," she said; "my darling." Which is one of the countless variations of the malady which makes the world spin round in one continual and perpetual fit..