But apart from the question of whether he loved Edith Garwood or not was the somewhat embarrassing one of whether she loved him. It was all right to flirt, to play the two-handed game for fun. But suppose it was for marbles; suppose one took it seriously——
“Hang it,” said young Kent to himself, “I don’t know whether I’ve got the real thing or not; and I don’t know whether she has been stringing me along or not. But if she hasn’t been it’s pretty nearly up to me to come across with a formal proposal. I wish I knew where I was at. I wonder if I could get a line from Jack?”
From which the experienced will readily deduce that young Mr. Kent was somewhat rattled and a little afraid of the future, but not altogether unwilling to pay for his fun like a man.
His endeavour to sound Miss Crooks was by no means a success. With unwonted density she did not or would not see the drift of his questions, framed with what he considered great subtlety; and when he became more direct she went to the point with embarrassing candour:
“Do you want to marry her, or don’t you?” she asked.
“Why, Jack, I’ll be hanged if I know,” he admitted.
“Well, when you make up your mind, ask her,” said Jack. “Meanwhile don’t try to pump me. I don’t know anything about her sentiments, and if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”
So Joe had to go it blind. The flirtation, however, progressed. One night the moon, rising gorgeous and serene above a notch in the hills, discovered Edith Garwood and Joe Kent seated prosaically upon a huge log by the river side, both very tongue-tied, and both apparently absorbed in the engrossing pastime of tossing pebbles into the black water and seeing the rings spread. In fact it had come to a showdown. It was distinctly Joe’s play, but he held up his hand. It was provoking, from Miss Garwood’s standpoint.
“I think,” she said, “that we should go home.”
“Oh, not yet; it’s early,” said Joe.