As the red convertible drove away, she turned to look up into his shining blue eyes, "Well, you were right. He's not a bit like you." With a disarming grin, he looked down at her, "Oh I don't know. He seemed rather dashing to me just now." Her amazement was obvious, as her green eyes opened wide, "I thought you couldn't stand him?" she asked. He refused to rise to her challenge, and smiled, "Anyone with a drop of Gregg blood in him can't be all bad." Her "ah ha" glint was evident, "Then you admit he's a descendent!" Letting a second or two of quiet settle between them, he leaned closer, "I admit nothing except a certain admiration for his taste in women."
"So then, my Captain, we admit a truce of sorts?" "Truce, M'dear?" he said quietly, leaning closer. "Surely, there is no harm in admitting you did not wish me to explore, shall we say, a social option, with men of my own age?"
"I suspect, Madam, what you mean is that you prefer to maintain only one romantic connection in your life, with someone who knows you well, and prefers you to any other woman he has ever known. Is that what you intend to communicate this morning?"
"If that's how you need it phrased Captain, then I think we can call a truce beginning now," she looked up, eyes shining with a wide, happy smile. "And, perhaps you might begin by offering me a glass of Madeira? It's been a long while. . ." "A long while since we were . . ." "Together?" she finished with a smile. "Alone, together, just the two of us," he said, holding out his hand. "Shall we?"