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She came closer. "I put it on to please you."
"Jolly nice of you, I must say."
She turned her face up invitingly. She liked kissing him. In truth, she liked kissing most men. She was secretly embarrassed by how much she liked it. She had even enjoyed kissing girls, at her boarding school where they did not see a boy for weeks on end.
He bent his head and touched his lips to hers. Her hat fell off, and they both giggled. Quickly he thrust his tongue into her mouth. She relaxed and enjoyed it. He was enthusiastic about all sensual pleasures, and she was excited by his eagerness.
She reminded herself that she had a purpose. Things were progressing nicely, but she wanted him to propose. Would he be satisfied with just a kiss? She needed him to want more. Often, if they had more than a few hasty moments, he would fondle her breasts.
A lot depended on how much wine he had drunk with lunch. He had a large capacity, but there came a point when he lost the urge.
She moved her body, pressing herself to him. He put a hand on her chest, but she was wearing a baggy waistcoat of woolen cloth and he could not find her small breasts. He grunted in frustration.
Then his hand roamed across her stomach and inside the waistband of the loose-fitting trousers.
She had never before let him touch her down there.
She still had on a silk petticoat and substantial cotton underdrawers, so he surely could not feel much, but his hand went to the fork of her thighs and pressed firmly against her through the layers. She felt a twinge of pleasure.
She pulled away from him.
Panting, he said: "Have I gone too far?"
"Lock the door," she said.
"Oh, my goodness." He went to the door, turned the key in the lock, and came back. They embraced again, and he resumed where he had left off. She touched the front of his trousers, found his erect penis through the cloth, and grasped it firmly. He groaned with pleasure.
She pulled away again.
The shadow of anger crossed his face. An unpleasant memory came back to her. Once, when she had made a boy called Theo Coffman take his hand off her breasts, he had turned nasty and called her a prick-teaser. She had never seen that boy again, but the insult had made her feel irrationally ashamed. Momentarily she feared that Boy might be about to make a similar accusation.
Then his face softened and he said: "I am dreadfully keen on you, y'know."
This was her moment. Sink or swim, she told herself. "We shouldn't be doing this," she said with a regret that was not greatly exaggerated.
"Why not?"
"We're not even engaged."
The word hung in the air for a long moment. For a girl to say that was tantamount to a proposal. She watched his face, terrified that he would take fright, turn away, mumble excuses, and ask her to leave.
He said nothing.
"I want to make you happy," she said. "But . . ."
"I do love you, Daisy," he said.
That was not enough. She smiled at him and said: "Do you?"
"Ever such a lot."
She said nothing, but looked at him expectantly.
At last he said: "Will you marry me?"
"Oh, yes," she said, and she kissed him again. With her mouth pressed to his she unbuttoned his fly, burrowed through his underclothing, found his penis, and took it out. The skin was silky and hot. She stroked it, remembering a conversation with the Westhampton twins. "You can rub his thing," Lindy had said, and Lizzie had added: "Until it squirts." Daisy was intrigued and excited by the idea of making a man do that. She grasped a bit harder.
Then she remembered Lindy's next remark. "Or you can suck it--they like that best of all."
