He was apologizing and Zelda was pressing her lips into a thin awkward line. She looked, again, at the mistletoe above them. It was too far up for her to reach to grab it, and she did not think that that would help, anyways. If this was the same as it had been when she was a student - and it probably was - then there really was nothing to be done. Except, of course, to kiss him.

She had never kissed anyone on purpose. She had wanted very badly to kiss Charlie Williams before the truth had come out, but had not quite managed to gather the nerve. She had not even gathered the nerve to do anything more than hold onto his wrist, even after he had saved her life. Mr. Darrow, meanwhile, was a sailor. She bet that he had kissed plenty of people, and probably done more with several, too. So on top of everything else - everything else - he was probably going to think that she was bad at this.

"Well," Zelda said, "I mean. It's not your fault. I'm sorry too."

She realized, glancing around them, that they were being watched. Her face turned red again. Just when she had thought that things couldn't get any worse -- they managed to.

---