She bent in half where she sat, pressing her bosom nearly onto her knees, illuminating her eyes with a conscious dancing motion and saying "It is possible sometimes to say things plainly and for them still to be good, you know. Only I never do. What do you think of me?" She wasn't nervous at all, but she frowned slightly anyway, looking up at me from down next to my knees. I leaned over, took her chin in the palm of my hand, and kissed her softly on the forehead.
I wanted her to keep talking, because nothing that she said was at all serious or admirable, but all of it was sweet when she said it. I told her that I believed she already knew what I thought of her, and asked her why she supposed that she never did say thingsthe way she thought she ought to do.
She raised one side of her mouth, never looking away from me, and said, "I'm horribly silly. I never do anything that I want to or ought to, but strictly what will do the most harm to me and what I care about in the long run. I am no