"It's terrible," interrupted Billy, "when the girl has to do all the loving." She pushed the hair out of her hot face and stared angrily before her, across the road.
"You only love me, but I love you. See the difference?" asked the Watermelon. "It's simply impossible for your love to be as great as mine for that reason. Your father said I could come to you the last of August at Westhaven, and I'm coming, Billy."
"And then we can marry, did father say that?" asked Billy, turning to him.
"If you care still," muttered the Watermelon.
"Care," Billy laughed the contrary to merry scorn. "Care? Why, Jeroboam Martin, when will I not care?"
The Watermelon flushed and rose as the wisest course under the circumstances. "I'm off. Say good-by to the others for me, will you, Billy?"
"You will be my knight," whispered Billy. "And I will be your lady, and no knight ever went back on his lady, yet, Jeroboam."
"You've got a darned poor knight," grunted the Watermelon. Suddenly he turned and caught her in his arms, dragging her to him and forcing back her head to see into her eyes. "Billy, Billy," he cried, "will you be true to me, for ever and for ever, no matter what happens, no matter what I do? Could you, will you love me always?"
"Always, always," whispered Billy.
"Dirty, drunk?"