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brought up like our girls, to blush at everything! If Kate is
pink it is because she wants to slap me, not because she is
shy.”
His mother looked from one to the other of them, very
slowly. A smile pulled at her lips. “Is that so?” she asked
quietly. “I see.”
“The first time we met,” he went on gaily, “she spat at
me like a cross kitten with its back arched. She almost
stepped under my car, yet she flew at me furiously for
daring to criticise her!”
Watching him from under lowered lashes, Kate
suspected his light tone hid resentment. It was the first
time had had ever referred to their first encounter.
“Perhaps you were rude to her, Marc,” his mother said
mildly. “Was he, Kate?”
Kate looked at her and was relieved to see that she
was smiling warmly. “Very rude,” she agreed, smiling
back.
“Ye gods!” he exclaimed. “I was the very model of
restraint! And when we met again she tore my character
into strips, told me how to run my life and threw me out
of her home as if I were a burglar!”
Mrs. Lillitos laughed softly. “The more I hear of her
the more I admire her! Now, Marc, go away, and let me
talk to Kate alone for a while. You are too disturbing.”
He made a violent grimace, but did not argue. When
he had gone, his mother smiled at her. “He was, even as
a boy—it was like having a hurricane permanently in
the house.”
Kate laughed. “I can imagine!”
