few birds in winter. ' Of course they might want your clothes,' he had to admit rather falteringly.
She was somewhat indignant at this.
'They are always thinking of their nests,' he said apologetically, 'and there are some bits of you'—he stroked the fur on her pelisse—'that would excite them very much.'
'They shan't have my fur,' she said sharply.
'No,' he said, still fondling it, however, 'no. O Maimie,' he said rapturously, 'do you know why I love you? It is because you are like a beautiful nest.'
Somehow this made her uneasy. ' I think you are speaking more like a bird than a boy now,' she said, holding back, and indeed he was even looking rather like a bird. 'After all,' she said, 'you are only a Betwixt-and-Between.' But it hurt him so much that she immediately added, 'It must be a delicious thing to be.'
'Come and be one, then, dear Maimie,'