"Isn't she!" echoed the visitor sympathetically. "There she goes, the imp! What is left of your tie? Let me look at it."
"It's all right, thank you."
"There is just one thread ruffed up. I could fix it if I had a pin."
From her gown she produced one, but as she did so a spray of wild roses slipped to the ground.
"You've dropped your flowers," said Bob, picking them up.
"Have I? Thank you. They are withered, anyway, I'm afraid."
Tossing the rosebuds on the bench, she began to draw into smoothness the silken loop that defaced the tie.
"There!" she exclaimed, glancing up into his eyes and tilting her head critically to one side. "That is ever so much better. You would hardly notice it. Now I really must go. I have bothered you quite enough."
"You have not bothered me at all," contradicted Bob emphatically.
"But I know I must have," she protested. "I've certainly delayed you. Besides, it doesn't look as if Willie was coming back."