It was very difficult to go on addressing his remarks to an impassive classic profile—so difficult, in fact, that he abandoned the effort and let his eyes say the rest for him.
Eleanor stirred uneasily.
"I wish you wouldn't be foolish, Quin, and spoil all our fun. I've told you I mean to go on the stage for good and all. You know you wouldn't want an actress for a wife."
"I'd want you, whatever you were," he said with such fervor that she rashly gave him her luminous eyes again in gratitude.
He made the most of the opportunity thus offered.
"Honest, now!" he boldly challenged her. "You can't deny that you love me just a little bit, can you?"
She stared straight ahead of her down the long dim avenue, making no response to his question. The cherries that swung from her hat-brim stirred not a hair's-breadth, but the commotion their stillness caused in Quin's heart was nothing short of cyclonic.
"More than when you left Kentucky?" he persisted relentlessly.
This time a barely perceptible nod stirred the cherries.
"There!" he said triumphantly. "I knew it! Just keep right on the way you are going, and I won't say a word!"