"Yes, rather!" continued the lad, definitely. "Now, what about it?"
He held out a hand to help her up the dunes, but she climbed as lightly as he.
"What about it, please?" he repeated. "What about your belonging to me for keeps, I mean?"
The girl had a curious little gesture as she looked at him, then away.
Surprise was in it, and protest, and a virginal dignity; also amusement, unpreparedness, and wonder....
She repeated his words. "'Belong' to you? To you? Oh! No, I——"
"Don't you like me?" he shot out.
"Oh! I like you very well," she answered quickly, almost hurt herself by the thought that she might have hurt him. "I like you so well! I like to be with you. I like to talk to you. I—yes, I like to look at you," and she turned one of her frank and friendly glances upon that handsome figure striding by her side, that fresh face, all pink in the sea-breezes. "But I guess I'd never want to 'belong' to any man!"
He smiled into the sweet bewildered eyes. It was the smiling side of his obstinacy; obstinate and keen again, in love as in war!
"I say——How old are you?" he asked.