"I wasn't expecting anyone
just now."
"Oh, but I don't count," he said. He was standing on the bank above her,
looking down upon her with eyes so kindly that she found it impossible
to be vexed with him, or even embarrassed after that first moment.
She reached up her hand to him.
"I'm coming out."
He took the small wrist, and helped her ashore. She looked up at him and
laughed.
"I'm glad you've come," she said simply.
"Thank you," he returned, equally simply. "How are you getting on?"
"Oh, beautifully! I'm as happy as the day is long."
She began to rub her bare feet in the grass.
"Have my handkerchief," he suggested.
She accepted it with a smile, and sat down.
"Tell me about everything," she said.
Rivington sat down also, and took a long, luxurious pull at the briar
pipe.
"Things were quite lively for a day or two after you left," he said.
"But they have settled down again. Still, I don't advise you to go back
again at present."
"Oh, I'm not going," she said. "I am much happier here. I saw a squirrel
this morning. I wanted to kiss it dreadfully, but," with a sigh, "it
didn't understand."
"The squirrel's loss," observed Rivington.
She crumpled his handkerchief into a ball, and tossed it at him.
"Of course. But as it will never know what it has missed, it doesn't so
much matter. Are you going to live in the caravan? I'll bring you your
supper if you are.
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