“Instead,” said Dorothy, enjoying his confusion, “instead I will go on with you to Bilberry Reservoir: I’ve as much right to the cool breeze from its surface as you have, and if you’ve no very great objection, Mr. Pinder, you may give me your arm up the hill.”
Tom flushed to the brow and, feeling weak as water, hoped that Dorothy’s ears were not as quick, as her eyes, for sure she would have heard the beating of his heart.
“Do you know, Miss Dorothy, I think it’s the very first time I’ve been asked to give a lady my arm.”
“Been asked?” said Dorothy, and part withdrew her little hand.
“Or given it, of course. I should never dream of giving it unasked.”
“Oh!” said Dorothy, and her hand stole back again. “What, not to Lucy?”
“Oh, well, you know. Well, perhaps Lucy may have taken it sometimes when she felt overdone can’t say for sure. One doesn’t think of these things.”
“Oh! don’t they?” queried Dorothy, and her hand again made for retreat.
“Not with Lucy, I mean,” added Tom.
“Oh!” and the hand now was restful.