Presently she straightened up where she was kneeling in the long grass and stretched her arms. Then, still kneeling, she gazed curiously at Wayne with all the charm of a friendly wild thing unafraid.
“Shall we play tennis?” she asked.
“Certainly,” said Wayne, startled.
“Come, then,” she said, picking up her basket in one hand and extending the other to Wayne.
He took the fresh, cool fingers, and turned scarlet. Once his glance sneaked toward Briggs, but that young man was absorbed in fishing for brook trout with a net! Oh, ye little fishes! with a net!
Wayne’s brain seemed to be swarming with glittering pink-winged thoughts all singing.
He walked on air, holding tightly to the hand of his goddess, seeing nothing but a blur of green and sunshine. Then a clean-cut idea stabbed him like a stiletto: was this Vanessa or Iole? And, to his own astonishment, he asked her quite naturally.
“Iole,” she said, laughing. “Why?”
“Thank goodness,” he said irrationally.
“But why?” she persisted curiously.