'Jealousy,' she whispered.
His blood lost its glow, ran cold. He felt the bully's blows on his own skin, his romance turning suddenly sordid. But he recovered his courage. He, too, had muscles. 'But I thought he just missed seeing me kiss your hand.'
She opened her eyes wide. 'It wasn't you, you darling old dreamer.'
He was relieved and disturbed in one.
'Somebody else?' he murmured. Somehow the vision of the player-fellow came up.
She nodded. 'Isn't it lucky he has himself drawn a red-herring across the track? I didn't mind his blows—you were safe!' Then, with one of her adorable transitions, 'I am dreaming of another ice,' she cried with roguish wistfulness.
'I was afraid to confess my own greediness,' he said, laughing. He beckoned the waitress. 'Two more.'
'We haven't got any more strawberries,' was her unexpected reply. 'There's been such a run on them today.'
Winifred's face grew overcast. 'Oh, nonsense!' she pouted. To John the moment seemed tragic.
'Won't you have another kind?' he queried. He himself liked any kind, but he could scarcely eat a second ice without her.