As they moved toward the house, Bertram opened upon Miss Gray at once.
“This is the second chance I’ve had alone at you,” he said.
“We are rather conspicuous,” she burst out.
“Oh, nobody’ll mind. A girl always thinks everybody is looking at her. Besides, I wouldn’t care if they were. I’ve wanted to tell you something, and I couldn’t with Heath trailing us. You’ve got awfully nice eyes.”
Eleanor seemed to see neither the necessity nor the convenience of an answer.
“But you have!” he persisted. “They’re better than pretty. They’re nice.”
Again Eleanor said nothing. It seemed to her that there was nothing to say.
“I know why you’ve got it in for me,” he burst out. “You have, you know. When I speak to you, you never talk back, and yesterday you wouldn’t let me stay after I had corralled the bull. It’s because I’m working for your uncle. It’s because I’m making a living, not eating what someone else made for me like—” he swept his hand backward toward 33 the company on the lawn—“like those people out there.”
Stung, for a second, to a visible emotion, Eleanor raised her grey eyes and regarded him.
“You are assuming a little, aren’t you?” said she.