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Updated: June 29, 2025
Do kiss me, darling, and not frighten me anymore!" He held her close, but still he did not comply with her request. "Did this Silvester ever kiss you?" he asked. She shook her head vehemently, hiding her face. "Look at me!" he said. "No, Billikins!" she protested. "Then tell me the truth!" he said. "He kissed me once, Billikins," came in distressed accents from his shoulder. "And you?"
He made his way to the table set in the shade of the cluster-roses, and sat down to await her. She remained invisible, but her voice at once accosted him. "Good-morning, Billikins! Tell the khit you're ready! I shall be out in two shakes." None but she would have dreamed of bestowing so frivolous an appellation upon the sober Merryon.
She flitted by his side in her airy way, chatting inconsequently, not troubling about response, as elusive as a fairy and the man felt it in the rising fever of his veins as maddeningly attractive. They reached the bungalow. She went up the steps to the rose-twined veranda as though she floated on wings of gossamer. "The roses are all asleep, Billikins," she said.
"Oh, Billikins!" she said. "Oh, Billikins, that will be great!" She went back into his arms, and lay there for a further space, saying no word. There was something sacred in the silence between them, something mysterious and wonderful. The drip, drip, drip of the ceaseless rain was the only sound in the stillness.
"No no no!" she cried, wildly. "You mustn't, Billikins! Don't kiss me! Don't kiss me!" She threw up a desperate hand, covering his mouth. "Don't oh, don't!" she entreated, brokenly. But the fire she had kindled she was powerless to quench. He would not be frustrated. He caught her hand away. He held her to his heart.
"Then what is your objection to going?" he asked. She turned and sat down conversationally on the corner of the table. "Well, you know, Billikins, it's like this. When I married you I did it out of pity. See? I was sorry for you. You seemed such a poor, helpless sort of creature. And I thought being married to me might help to improve your position a bit. You see my point, Billikins?"
She seemed to be awaiting him, though she made no movement towards him as he approached. "Good-night, Billikins," she said, her voice very small and humble. He came to her without haste, realizing that she had given the game into his hands. She did not shrink from him, but she raised an appealing face. And oddly the man's heart smote him.
"It would be a quick method of getting rid of them," remarked Merryon. She jumped up. "Very well, then. I'll go, shall I? Shall I, darling?" He reached out a hand and grasped her wrist. "No," he said, deliberately, smiling up at her. "You'll stay and do your duty unless you're tired," he added. "Are you?" She stooped to bestow a swift caress upon his forehead. "My own Billikins!" she murmured.
Duty is better than a worthless woman, my Billikins, and I was never fit to be anything more than a toy to you a toy to play with and toss aside. And so good-bye, good-bye!" The scrawl ended with a little cross at the bottom of the page. He looked up from it with eyes gone blind with pain and a stunned and awful sense of loss. "When did the mem-sahib go?" he questioned, dully.
What is it?" he said, and sprang to his feet. In the same instant she turned with the movement of one tearing herself free from an evil spell, and flung herself violently upon his breast. "Oh, Billikins, save me save me!" she cried, and broke into hysterical sobbing. His arms were about her in a second, sheltering her, sustaining her. His eyes went beyond her to the open door.
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