After a week of not seeing each other Joan and Raymond made up for lost time by galloping instead of trotting along.
"Stevenson and O. Henry couldn't beat this adventure of ours," Raymond exclaimed one evening, wiping the moisture from his forehead. "And I bet thousands of folks would think better of one another if——"
"If—they had the line in their hands," Joan broke in; "but they haven't, you know!"
"Exactly."
Just then Raymond made a bad break. He asked Joan if she did not trust him well enough to give him her telephone number.
"Something might occur," he said, "business pops up unexpectedly. I hate to lose a chance of seeing you—and I hate to wait on street corners."
"I am sorry," Joan replied, "but that would spoil everything."
Raymond flushed. It was just such plunges as this that made him recoil.
"I understand," he replied, coolly; "I had hoped that you could trust me."
"It is not a matter of trust. It's keeping to the bargain."