“Will you, or will you not, quit me?' I now demanded in a sudden passion, advancing close to him.'I would prefer not to quit you', he replied, gently emphasizing the not.”

“You might want to get up," he said. "Everyone will be here quite soon to rescue you, and you may prefer to have clothes on when they arrive." He shrugged. "I would, at any rate, but then, I am well known to be remarkably shy.”

“What you really are is a Bunburyist. I was quite right in saying you were a Bunburyist. You are one of the most advanced Bunburyists I know.”

“My dearest goose, why didn't you trust me, when I assured you that you might?' he countered. 'I have cherished throughout the believe that you would confide in me, and you see I was quite right.”

“Tell me you like me,” he whispered. He was so close I could almost imagine the feel of his lips as they moved, but not quite. I pursed mine together, trying to stop my mischievous smile. “No,” I replied. He shook his head. “That’s not an acceptable answer.” “Well, it’s the one you’re getting.” I laughed and he did too, releasing me and flopping onto his back.”

“I sigh. “But if you’d talked to Jules—if she could hear you . . .” My voice trails off.“Then you wouldn’t feel quite so crazy?” Oliver asks gently. “Can’t you believe in me, if I believe in you?”