Puck was silent.

Merryon continued inexorably. "I suppose it was your own fault. You led
him on."

She gave a little nervous laugh against his breast. "I never meant to,
Billikins. I--I don't much like men--as a rule."

"You manage to conceal that fact very successfully," he said.

She laughed again rather piteously. "You don't know me," she whispered.
"I'm not--like that--all through."

"I hope not," said Merryon, severely.

She turned her face slightly upwards and snuggled it into his neck. "You
used not to mind," she said.

He held her close in his arms the while he steeled himself against her.
"Well, I mind now," he said. "And I will have no more of it. Is that
clearly understood?"

She assented dubiously, her lips softly kissing his neck. "It isn't--all
my fault, Billikins," she whispered, wistfully, "that men treat
me--lightly."

He set his teeth. "It must be your fault," he declared, firmly. "You can
help it if you try."