"Shall I?" she asked. "We are to be good friends after all?"
"Or, are you going to kiss me?"
Terry arched her brows at him. But there was a live fire in her eyes and a crimsoning tide under her lovely skin.
"Smarty!" cried the old Terry. "Just try getting fresh with me and you'll get your face slapped!"
Whereupon Steve's laughter boomed out joyously.
"It's Terry come home again!" he announced to the open meadow about them. "Terry herself."
Was it Terry herself? She seemed strangely embarrassed all of a sudden. Just why? Terry didn't know.
"We are going out in my car," she said hurriedly. It seemed that she must hasten to make some safe remark each time that his eyes, busied with her, rested upon her eyes. "We'll be at the ranch long before you get your cows home. You may come to see me—if you please to."
"Who is we?" he asked.
"Oh," said Terry, "that means Mrs. Randall who is going to be cook and chaperon."