In his arms he felt her tremble and then fill with a great sigh.
“Oh, I’m so glad you said that!” she cried abruptly, and for a moment something shook in her voice.
“Shall we stay?” he said eagerly, confused by thronging sensations, even as the earth and the sky grew confused in the fall of the night.
She laughed, lightly and happily from the heart, and though she was not deceived by the intoxication of the moment, she yielded with every sense.
The next morning she was an inconscient child, without a brooding thought, romping about the bungalow, doing a dozen crazy things, singing and laughing until her mood caught him in its playfulness. For the day they were as foolishly happy as a pair of growing puppies, playing a dozen tricks on each other, laughing for the pure joy of being together, pursuing or pursued.
“Upon my soul, Inga, I believe you are actually flirting with me!” he cried, from across the table.
She eluded his sudden grasp and went scurrying out of doors and up into the sheltering branches of a broken pine. He stood at the foot laughing, one hand on her ankle which he had caught just as she was hurrying out of reach. Thus arrested, she turned and settled herself on the swaying branch.
“Actually flirting with me,” he said sternly.
She shook her head indignantly, her eyes sparkling.
“What is the meaning of this, I’d like to know?” he continued, scowling.