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 full mouth, open just a trifle now so that her teeth could catch the lower lip—like ivory on scarlet satin

"You are," he concluded at last.

They chose a car from the many standing empty along the driveway and climbed into it. The car was not a limousine; certainly not the limousine. Jock had an instinctive delicacy in such matters. This was a touring car with its top down, so that they were canopied only by stars and a thin blonde eyebrow of moon.

Yvonne slid low in her seat and, locking her fingers behind her head, stared upward thoughtfully. "I'm glad you brought me out," she remarked. "I was tired of being jerked around by twenty or thirty different partners, most of them drunk. It's a hard life for a girl."

"It must be!" Jock scoffed. "No doubt you have a hell of a time of it."

"I do." She sounded entirely serious. There was a pause, after which she continued. "For instance, take the present circumstance. I came out here with you because I wanted to rest, but you brought me out because you thought you could kiss me. Didn't you?" Her slanting eyes, trained on him suddenly, were challenging.

"Maybe," said Jock, a bit nonplussed but resolved not to betray it.

"You can't."

"Why can't I?"

"Because I'm not such a fool as to let you."

"I'm not such a fool as not to try!" retorted Jock. And did try. And was increasingly charmed because he did not succeed.

"Now that we have that settled," Yvonne said after another pause, "change seats with me, will you?"

He obeyed, wonderingly, and she took his place