He was still gazing off across the sea, which the declining sun was making flash in a splendid and quite dazzling way. It was merely a warm, hypnotic stare, and he really saw nothing at all; yet he was faintly conscious of things—above all, he was conscious of a feeling of simple young happiness.
"Les?"
"Hm?"
"You do think we cut enough, don't you?"
"Sure, I guess so."
"It would be so funny," she laughed, "if there didn't happen to be enough to go round and some had to just sit and watch the others eat!"
"Most of them do that anyway, don't they?" he murmured. "I mean they sit there and watch you work like a slave, and then swallow everything that's poked in front of their mouths. I guess all roasts are alike."
"Well, anyhow, we won't feed any of the lazybones tonight, Les. We'll eat our own! I'll feed you, and you feed me. Will you?"
He glanced up at her and smiled. Then he slid down a step and lay back, resting his head against the step on which she sat, a little to one side.