She slackened her gait so that he came up beside her.
"Amiss? With what, with whom?"
"You. What's wrong? What's on your mind?"
A shaft of moonlight fell through a break in the branches and struck across her shoulder. It caught the little rosebuds that lay against her neck and he saw them move as if lifted by a quick breath.
"There's nothing on my mind. Why do you think there is?"
"Because at dinner you didn't eat anything and were as quiet as if there was an embargo on the English language."
"Couldn't I be just stupid?"
He turned to her, seeing her face a pale oval against the silver-moted background:
"No. Not if you tried your darndest."
Dick Ferguson's tongue did not lend itself readily to compliments. He gave forth this one with a seriousness that was almost solemn.