“Did you tell the garage men very explicitly where we were stalled?”
“Sure I did! What’s biting you, Madge, anyhow?”
“How did you describe it? Just where are we?”
“On the Shutesbury road, about eight miles above Amherst.”
“How far is it back to the main road?”
“Say, Madge! Are you afraid to wait here with me just because there’s no houses in sight?”
“Afraid? Oh, no, Gordon. I’m not afraid of you in the least.”
“Then I wish you’d cut out the catechism.”
The girl bit her lip and slapped at a murderous mosquito on her wrist. She drew the sweater-coat tighter about her and started that wait. She was glad she had her purse in her sweater-coat pocket. Gordon smoked his cigarette to the final puff and sighed philosophically as he lighted another. He restored his arm along the back of the seat. It grew darker.
“Madge,” said he, “did you know—honestly!—you’re one of the swellest girls I ever ran across!”