"How about my shoes?
Are the buckles of the period ?" One of her hands encountered his at hazard, lingered, dropped, the fingers still linked lightly in his.

She bent over, knees straight, and lifted the hem of her petticoat, displaying her Louis XVI footwear.
"Shoes and buckles are all right," he said; "faultless, true to the period--very fascinating....

I've got to go--one or two things to do----" They examined the shoes for some time in silence; still bending over she turned her dainty head and looked around and up at him.

There was a moment's pause, then he kissed her.
"I was afraid you'd do that--some day," she said, straightening up and stepping back one pace, so that their linked hands now hung pendant between them.
"I was sure of it, too," he said.

"Now I think I'd better go--as all things are en regle, even the kiss, which was classical--pure--Louis XVI....