“I’m very comfortable as I am,” he remarked, rubbing his cheek against her skirt.
She resisted the temptation to smile.
“I’m not—particularly,” she returned briefly. “I’ve got cramp.”
He sat up at once.
“Oh, by Jove! Why didn’t you say so before?”
“Because I hadn’t got it before. I was much too concerned about you to have time for it. How do you feel? Shall I help you up?”
But Tony disclaimed the necessity for any assistance. As he said, he had only been knocked out of time for a few minutes. He might have been made of indiarubber for all the actual harm his fall had done him. He rose to his feet without difficulty and proceeded to help Ann to hers.
“How do we get back?” he asked. Then, glancing upwards: “I’m hanged if I’m going to try and climb up there a second time. How on earth did you get here? You didn’t drop from the skies, I suppose, like an angel?”
“There’s a ledge—it’s rather narrow, but one can just squeeze round, and it brings you out somewhere on the top. Are you sure you can manage it, though? You won’t turn faint or anything?”—anxiously.
“No”—with impish gravity. “I shan’t ‘turn faint or anything.’ In fact, I could dance a hornpipe here if you liked. Still, I’ll hold your hand—just in case of accidents”—audaciously. “Shall I go first? Oh, by the way”—he paused. “Here’s your blue gentian. Won’t you have it?”