Mr. Ponsonby had rushed up the stairs and they were sitting there. He was so tall that he hung over her when he leaned.
"It's nothing. You ought to be able to pull up your own weight."
"You mustn't do it from top-storey windows. It's dangerous."
"Not if you've practised on the banisters first. Where's Mark?"
"With your Mater. I say, supposing you and I go for a walk."
"We must be back at six o'clock," she said.
When you went for walks with Mark or Mr. Ponsonby they always raced you down Ley Street and over the ford at the bottom. They both gave you the same start to the Horn's Tavern; the only difference was that with Mr. Ponsonby you were over the ford first.
They turned at the ford into the field path that led to Drake's Farm and the plantation. He jumped all the stiles and she vaulted them. She could see that he respected her. And so they came to the big water jump into the plantation. Mr. Ponsonby went over first and held out his arms. She hurled herself forward and he caught her. And this time, instead of putting her down instantly, he lifted her up in his arms and held her tight and kissed her. Her heart thumped violently and she had a sudden happy feeling. Neither spoke.
Humphrey Propart had kissed her once for a forfeit. And she had boxed his ears. Mr. Ponsonby's was a different sort of kiss.
They tore through the plantation as if nothing had happened, clearing all the brooks in a business-like way. Mr. Ponsonby took brook-jumping as the serious and delightful thing it was.