"Oh, you don't, no such of a thing."
They saw a wagon coming, and he dropped her hand. He stepped to the right, she to the left, and the wagon passed between them. She looked at him in alarm. "That's bad luck," she said.
"What is?"
"To let anything pass between us."
"Oh, it doesn't make any difference."
"Yes, it does," she insisted. "No, you mustn't take my hand again—you've let something pass between us."
He awkwardly grabbed after her hand. She held it behind her, and about her waist he pressed his arm. "Oh, don't do that. Somebody might see us."
"I don't care if the whole world sees us."
"You say that now, but after awhile you'll care."
"Never as long as I live. You know I love you."