"I'm willing," he said, "to go two steps forward and one back in my acquaintance with you; but I draw the line at two back. It sounded very friendly a few minutes ago when you called me Phil. I hope you'll see your way clear to doing it again sometime."
While he spoke, Philip was testing the ropes of the hammock.
"Oh, I'm sure I didn't call you Phil," she said in surprise.
"Let me see. Did I call you Kathleen?"
"I think you did," she replied, a delicate formality in her voice; "but the circumstances certainly excused it."
"I hope they will continue to excuse it, for I feel it coming on that I shall do it again. You took off Miss Fabian with your tailor gown." He turned and faced her. "Didn't you?" he added.
She shrugged her shoulders, and smiled again. "Perhaps."
"Then get right down on this couch, little Kathleen," he ordered, smiling, and after a moment's hesitation the girl obeyed. He drew over her the linen coverlet that had lain on a neighboring chair, and looked, not at her, but with fascinated eyes through the broad sheets of glass which guarded the hammock from the wind.
"Now, if you can feel sober enough to sleep in this intoxicating place, do so," he said.