"You know what I'm trying so hard to say. It means so much to me. It's hard for a man to say the one word which he knows will make him or break him for all time to come. He'd rather—he'd rather just hope on blindly, I guess, than to speak when he can't guess how the woman feels. Must—must I say it—right out, Jessamy?"
"No, my friend, don't say it."
"Is there anything that stands between us?"
"Yes. But don't ask what."
"Then you don't love me!"
Her red lips quivered. "I said for you to wait," she told him softly.
"Why should I wait? For what? I know myself. I'm grown. I know that I—"
"Don't!" she interrupted. "Wait!" And she leaned in the saddle and swung White Ann away from him.
"Let's ride back home," she said. "You'll stay to supper? The moon will be bright for your ride home later. I'll make you a cherry pie!"