"Oh, don't we hate ourself," she chided softly, as she handed him more bait. "You really shouldn't, Allen—"
"What! Hate myself?" he demanded, letting a fish slip back into the water in his preoccupation. "I'd just as soon—as long as you don't!"
Betty laughed happily. It was so good to be there, unbelievably catching fish, with Allen beside her saying delightful—and foolish—things.
Then she thought of the parting that must inevitably come and her bright face clouded. Allen saw the shadow and leaned toward her anxiously.
"What is it, dear?" he whispered softly. "Have I done anything?"
"No," she answered with a little smile, half-whimsical, half-wistful. "You haven't done anything. It's what you're going to do that hurts."
CHAPTER VIII
ENTER SERGEANT MULLINS
"Mollie, you've been crying."