“Embrasse-moi.”
When he bent down she flung her arms round his neck. It was slightly uncomfortable, for she held him in such a position that he felt rather choked.
“Ah, je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime,” she cried, with her extravagantly French accent.
Philip wished she would speak English.
“I say, I don’t know if it’s struck you that the gardener’s quite likely to pass the window any minute.”
