The young woman made an honest attempt at gravity, but one look at his embellished face set her off again.
“We just sat down,” he explained.
“Yes. On your bubble of romance. It’s gone—punctured——”
“No, no, Miss Lady-in-the-Apple-Blossoms. I’m stickin’ to my story.”
“But it won’t stick to you, as for instance the dirt does that you grubbed into.”
“Sho!” He mopped his face again. “You know blame’ well we’re gonna be friends. Startin’ from right now.”
She started to rise, but he was before her. With both hands he drew her to her feet. She looked at him, warily, with a little alarm, for he had not released her hands.
“If you please,” she suggested, a warning in her voice.
He laughed, triumphantly, and swiftly drew her to him. His lips brushed her hot cheek before she could push him away.
She snatched her hands from him, glared indignantly for an instant at him, then turned on her heel in contemptuous silence.