Ruth said she believed that she had all the cherries she wanted. She had, perhaps, a dozen—. She was wondering how she should get down, and was in a panic lest her father should appear and find her up in the tree with this strange young man.
In reply to her refusal, however, Steve looked at her quizzically.
“You want to get down.” This in assertion rather than in question.
“Yes.” Defiantly.
“And you can’t get down unless I let you?”
“N—n— “ She caught herself quickly, “I thought you had surrendered?”
“Can’t a prisoner capture his captor?”
“Not if he has given his parole and is a gentleman.” Steve whistled softly. His eyes never left her face.
“Will you invite me in?”
“No.”