"Don't do that," said George; "you'll make your fingers dirty."
He lifted the hand and examined the small pink finger.
"It's a pretty name," he said irrelevantly.
Their eyes met for a second, then hers were covered by the long lashes.
"Ellen, I mean," said George. "I always liked that name, but I suppose it wouldn't do to call you by it."
Her breath came faster.
"I suppose it wouldn't do?" said George.
He looked at her cheek, now crimson, and leant nearer.
"Ellen," he whispered softly.
A launch on the river hooted shrilly in the distance, and a boisterous laugh from the opposite bank echoed faintly over the water. George leant nearer till his shoulder touched hers. His arm that had rested idly behind slid round her waist with gentle pressure.