The girl breathed like one who has been swimming under water, but, when she spoke, her voice was calm and contained.
“Please!” she begged, “don’t you see how unfair it is? I can’t go away; I have to listen.”
The young man pulled himself upright, and pressed his lips together.
“I beg your pardon,” he whispered.
There was for some time an unhappy silence, and then Winthrop added bitterly: “‘Methinks the punishment exceeds the offence.’”
“Do you think you make it easy for me?” returned the girl.
She considered it most ungenerous of him to sit staring into the moonlight, looking so miserable that it made her heart ache to comfort him, and so extremely handsome that to do so was quite impossible. She would have liked to reach out her hand and lay it on his arm, and tell him she was sorry, but she could not. He should not have looked so unnecessarily handsome.
Sam came running toward them with five grizzly bears, who balanced themselves apparently with some slight effort upon their hind legs. The grizzly bears were properly presented as: “Tommy Todd, of my class, and some more like him. And,” continued Sam, “I am going to quit you two and go with them. Tom’s car broke down, but Fred fixed it, and both our cars can travel together. Sort of convoy,” he explained.
His sister signalled eagerly, but with equal eagerness he retreated from her.
“Believe me,” he assured her soothingly, “I am just as good a chaperon fifty yards behind you, and wide awake, as I am in the same car and fast asleep. And, besides, I want to hear about the game. And, what’s more, two cars are much safer than one. Suppose you two break down in a lonely place? We’ll be right behind you to pick you up. You will keep Winthrop’s car in sight, won’t you, Tommy?” he said.