"But there isn't a bit of harm done," went on Madeline. "You see, I knew that first night on the train that you were a gentleman."
"Some gentlemen are rotters," said Ted Holiday, with a wisdom beyond his twenty years.
"But you are not."
"No, I'm not; but some other chap might be. That is why I wish you would promise not to go in for this sort of thing."
"With anybody but you," she stipulated.
"Not with anybody at all," corrected Ted soberly, remembering his own recent restrained impulse to put his arm around her.
"Well, I don't want to—at least not with anybody but you. I never did it before with anybody. Honest, Ted, I never did."
"That's good. I felt sure that you hadn't."
"Why?"
He grinned sheepishly and stooped to break off a dry twig from a nearby bush.