"Here!" Baird exclaimed. "Why didn't you let me do that?... Let me help you!"
Ann looked at him, innate coquetry in her eyes. "If you'll stand aside, suh, I can step down."
Baird answered the look in the fashion natural to him. He took her by the waist, held her up long enough to prove the strength of his arms, then set her down; his lips pressed her cheek and his breath warmed her neck as he did so. "Arms like mine are made for reaching—and for holding," he said.
The color swept into Ann's face, and her eyes widened into brilliancy. For an instant Baird did not know what to think. Then her lashes dropped and she held the key out to him. "You know where to find it now," she said softly.
"I'll come again—I'm staying at the Hunt Club," he answered swiftly. He took her hand as well as the key; he had flushed as deeply as she.
The tacit invitation had struck Baird as involuntary, and so did her answer, a sudden inclination and as quick a shrinking; the color fled from her face. "No!" she said decidedly, and pulling her hand away sped to the house.
Baird started in pursuit, the first step, before he remembered where he was. Then he stopped. "Whew!" he said, under his breath.
He went back to the gate and unlocked it, led his horse through, and returned the key to its hiding-place. Before he mounted, he gave the house a long scrutiny. "We'll see!" he said, his eyes grayed to coldness, his cheeks still hot.
He rode for half a mile before he regained his usual aspect. Then he laughed shortly: "That was funny—she regularly took hold on me."