Fanshaw watched the pink dress disappear down the path, going bright and dull in the patches of sun and shadow among the maple trees. Their laughing rose to a shriek and stopped suddenly. Fanshaw and Elise looked at each other.
"Children must play," said Fanshaw stiffly.
"What time are we goin' home, d'you know?" said Elise yawning.
"You don't like—er—picnicking."
There was a silence. From down river came the splash of paddles and the sound of a phonograph playing "O Waltz Me Around Again Willie." Fanshaw sat still in the same position with his knees drawn up to his chin, as if paralyzed. With tightening throat he managed to say:
"What can they be doing ... They don't seem to be coming back."
"Ask me something hard," said the blue girl jeeringly.
Fanshaw felt himself blushing. He clasped his hands tighter round his knees. He felt the sweat making little beads on his forehead. Ought he to kiss her? He didn't want to kiss her with her rouged lips and her blonde hair all fuzzy like that, peroxide probably. A fool to come along, anyway. What on earth shall I say to her?
She got to her feet.
"I'm goin' to walk around a bit ... Ou, my foot's gone to sleep."