If only he had dared, ... he would have drawn the dainty head of Leslie Wilkinson down on his shoulder and would have kissed her then and there
She touched him lightly on the arm. He tried to seize her hand, but she drew it from him.
"I don't believe," he said, "that we've got any right to leave this fascinating retreat, and go down and face the crowd without being—well, without being engaged. That is, according to my idea of the Pallet-Searings' idea, we'd be considered a dull young couple, to say the least."
"But I'd be cutting myself out of many a delightful hour here!" Leslie shook her head.
"Not necessarily," he persisted.
She tilted her head critically.
"And this is all I'm to get for sitting out the best part of an evening with a girl, when I might have been down there with the madding crowd, having the time of my life," he added.
Leslie moved to go.
"We've made several false starts from here," she reminded him, "but we must go now without any further hesitation, and by separate routes. Good-bye," she said, and held out her hand. "Shall I see you at the landing-place at eight o'clock sharp in the morning?"