She sprang to her feet, as if to make room for him upon the rock, but sank back quickly. He gave her a scrutinizing glance.
“What was that I heard?”
“I asked you to get out of that horrid water. It must be frightfully cold.”
He shook an admonitory finger. “Bravely done, but you can’t fool me so easily. I heard a moan, and—and I won’t remark that you’re crying.”
“You’d—better not.”
“You hurt yourself when you stumbled.” His firm hand was on her shoulder.
“No—n-o. Well, even if I did turn my ankle, I’m not crying. It’s very tactless of you to notice.”
He tried to catch a glimpse of the slim leg through the dancing water. It swung back in vigorous embarrassment.
“The other ankle, then?”
“Ye-es.”