Rhoda’s eyes fell. She held the long strip of seaweed with both hands and tightened it.
“Do you wish me to leave you?” he added.
“You mean that we are to go through the lakes together—as we have been to-day?”
“No. I don’t mean that.”
Rhoda took a few steps onward, so that he remained standing behind. Another moment and his arms had folded about her, his lips were on hers. She did not resist. His embrace grew stronger, and he pressed kiss after kiss upon her mouth. With exquisite delight he saw the deep crimson flush that transfigured her countenance; saw her look for one instant into his eyes, and was conscious of the triumphant gleam she met there.
“Do you remember my saying in the letter how I hungered to taste your lips? I don’t know how I have refrained so long—”
“What is your love worth?” asked Rhoda, speaking with a great effort. She had dropped the seaweed, and one of her hands rested upon his shoulder, with a slight repelling pressure.
“Worth your whole life!” he answered, with a low, glad laugh.
“That is what I doubt. Convince me of that.”
“Convince you? With more kisses? But what is your love worth?”