“You bin cryin’,” observed her cavalier.
That was too much! Those tears were not to be mentioned by him.
“You mind your own business!” she retorted hotly. “I wasn’t crying over you, anyways!”
She saw that he didn’t believe that.
“Have it your own way,” he said soothingly. “Whadder you say we go an’ get some dinner?”
“No!” replied Miss Riordan, and sat down upon the nearest seat.
She always rejected his suggestions—at first; but, as always, she regretted what she had done. Here was the very situation she had dreaded—herself seated, flushed, struggling against her ever ready tears, while he stood there smiling.
“All right!” he said. “We’ll stay here, then.”
This was another familiar move. How many victories had he won by his patience, his smiling silence! He could wait, and he could hold his tongue, and she could do neither.
“And me waiting here all afternoon!” she burst out. “And then you come and you say it’s too late to go down to the island. Well, what made you come so late?”