would you stop being so polite?” He looked at her in amazement. “But wouldn’t you rather—” “I would not rather. I don’t want you to be polite! I want you to be Will! I don’t want you to indicate points of architectural interest to me as if you were a Baedeker guide! I want you to say dreadfully mad, funny things and make up songs and be—” The Will I fell in love with, she almost said. “And be Will,” she finished instead. “Or I shall hit you with my umbrella.” “I am trying to court you,” Will said in exasperation. “Court you properly. That’s what all this has been about. You know that, don’t
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