He caught at her hand and brought her crashing through the underbrush, pushing through thickets till they were in the center of a great group of maples, their heavy boughs spread protectingly above.
A giant tree trunk protected her upon one side; upon the other Johnny drew close, spreading his sweater across her shoulders. Looking upwards, Maria Angelina could not see the sky; above and about her was soft greenness, like a fairy bower. And when the rain came pouring like hail upon the leaves scarcely a drop won through to her.
They stood very still, unmoving, unspeaking while the shower fell. There was an unreal dreamlike quality about the happening to the girl. Then, almost intrusively, she became deeply aware of his presence there beside her—and conscious that he was aware of hers.
She shivered.
"Cold," said Johnny, in a jumpy voice, and put a hand on her shoulders, guarded by his sweater.
"N-no," she whispered.
"Feel dry?"
His hand moved upward to her bared head, lingered there upon the heavy braids.
"Yes," she told him, faintly as before.
"But you're shivering."