Pause. Miss Garwood sighed inaudibly but impatiently, and her fingers played nervously with a ring. Joe stared blankly at the water. The ring, escaping from the lady’s hand, fell tinkling on the beach pebbles.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “I’ve dropped my ring!”
She knelt at once and began to search for it in the semi-darkness. So did Joe. Quite by accident her slim white hand came in contact with his broad brown one. And the natural thing happened.
“Mr. Kent!”
“Yes—Edith!”
“Please!”
But she swayed toward him slightly. Accepting the situation, Joe Kent’s unoccupied hand and arm encircled her waist with considerable facility. He even applied gentle pressure. She yielded a little, but protested:
“Mr. Kent—Joe!”
“Yes, dear!”
“You shouldn’t—I shouldn’t. I never gave you any reason to think that I thought that you thought—I mean you couldn’t think I did, could you?” Which confusion of speech went to show that the usually composed Miss Garwood was slightly rattled. She had created the situation and she felt it slipping beyond her control. Joe, who had accepted it recklessly, drew a long breath and made the plunge.