"She is certainly very pretty," said Ethra, biting her lips with unfeigned vexation.
He gazed entranced at the distant throng for a while.
"And that little grey-eyed romp—the very young and slim one," he continued enthusiastically. "Me for a hammock with her in the goosy-goosy moonlight. . . . And I hope I'm going to meet a lot more—every one of 'em. . . . What on earth is that?" he exclaimed, changing countenance and leaning forward. "By Jinks, it's a man!"
"Certainly. There are four men here. You knew that."
"I forgot," he said, glowering at the unwelcome sight of his own sex.
Ethra said: "Oh, yes, there are those first four men we caught—Mr. Willett, Mr. Carrick, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Green." She added carelessly: "I have been paying rather marked attention to Alphonso W. Green."
"To whom?" he asked, with a disagreeable sensation drenching out the sparks of joy in his bosom.
"To Alphonso W. Green. . . . And I've jollied De Lancy Smith with bon-bons a bit, too. They are having a lot of attention paid them—and they're rather spoiled. But, of course, any girl can marry any one of them if she really wants to."
Langdon gazed miserably at her; she seemed to be pleasantly immersed in her own reflections and paid no further heed to him. Then he cast a scowling glance in the direction of the young man who was gathering wild flowers and arranging them in a little basket.
"Ethra," he began—and stopped short under the sudden and unexpected unfriendliness of her glance. "Miss Leslie," he resumed, reddening, "I wouldn't have come here unless I thought—hoped—believed—that you would pay me m-m-marked——"