Push her in mock exasperation, then take her hand again. She is a little uneasy about it, and leans over to tie her boot-lace more securely.
“Well, it’s all right with me,” say suddenly. “You know, you’re a pretty game kid.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“You sure are. Lots of people must have told you so before. I like you. Do you know it?”
“Glad you do,” she says. “I like you.”
“There, that’s just what I mean.” Fill your pipe again. “Saying it out, frankly, like that.”
“Why shouldn’t I, if it’s true?”
“Well, I don’t really know why you shouldn’t. But most girls wouldn’t. You know how women are.”
“Sure,” she says, largely.
“Gee,” you cry. “The way you say that! Funny kid.”