“Now, please don’t. We are to be good friends, aren’t we?”
“I hope so, but you’d better not treat my invitations so lightly after this. There’s another dance to be given soon. Will you come?”
“Yes, I promise—”
“Don’t promise, just come,” she said lightly, then—“Say, tell me more about the old mountaineer. What does he look like?”
“He is tall and straight, with long hair and beard and the kindest of eyes and voice—you would like him I know. He lives in the cosiest little cabin in a pretty dell; you ought to see it.”
“I’m interested; take me there—oh!—pardon me—I—”
“No pardon needed. I’ll be delighted to do it.”
“When can we go?”
“Any time you say. Do you like to shoot?”
“I’ve never tried it. Will you teach me how?”