She watched him with great amusement, laughed and shook her head.
“No, don’t stop,” she said, but it’s not that one now.”
Arthur stopped, and frowned at her left foot on the floor.
“Don’t stop.”
He stroked her right foot, ran his fingers around her ankle, under her toes, along her instep and said, “You mean it’s something to do with which leg I’m holding …?”
She did another of the shrugs which would have brought such joy into the life of a simple cushion from Squornshellous Beta.
He frowned.
“Pick me up,” she said quietly.
He let her right foot down to the floor and stood up. So did she. He picked her up in his arms and they kissed again. This went on for a while, then she said, “Now put me down again.”
Still puzzled, he did so.
“Well?”
She looked at him almost challengingly.
“So what’s wrong with my feet?” she said.
Arthur still did not understand. He sat on the floor, then got down on his hands and knees to look at her feet, in situ, as it were, in their normal habitat. And as he looked closely, something odd struck him. He pit his head right down to the ground and peered. There was a long pause. He sat back heavily.
“Yes,” he said, “I see what’s wrong with your feet. They don’t touch the ground.”
“So … so what do you think …?”
Arthur looked up at her quickly and saw the deep apprehension making her eyes suddenly dark. She bit her lip and was trembling.
“What do …” she stammered. “Are you …?” She shook the hair forwards over her eyes that were filling with dark fearful tears.
He stood up quickly, put his arms around her and gave her a single kiss.
“Perhaps you can do what I can do,” he said, and walked straight out of her upstairs front door.
The record got to the good bit.