"You look as if you could do things—I mean useful things."
At this she sank on a rock and buried her face in her hands, quivering from head to foot. Jerry thought that she was crying.
"What's the—?"
She threw out her arms, leaned back against a tree, her long suppressed merriment bubbling forth unrestrained.
"Oh, you'll be the death of me," she laughed, the tears running down her cheeks. "I can't stand being bottled up another minute. I can't."
Jerry was offended.
"I don't see what there is to laugh at," he said with some dignity.
"You don't—that's just it, you don't, and that's what's so funny."
And she laughed again.
"What's funny?" he asked.