“There’s Bea.”
“Oh, Bea’s all right,” he parried.
“Are you going to marry Bea?”
“Oh, I guess so; forget it. Let’s—let’s just toboggan.”
She closed her eyes and let the thrill of the contact suffuse her.
“But you don’t care—” she struggled to see the thing straight.
“Don’t I?”
“And neither do I. We’re just good friends, like brother and sister. And we’re letting something get hold of us and make us wild.”
“All right. Let her go, Gallagher—” he chuckled.
“But how can we? It isn’t—love-making at all!... What is it?”