This was true. But she continued to keep the table between them, despite his efforts to come around to her side.
"You go over there and sit down—please!" she begged. "Please, please, pretty please!"
He went slowly. He sat down. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and teetered his heels on the rowels of his spurs.
"Look here, Hazel," he complained, for he was feeling most ill-used, "I don't understand this a-tall. You lemme kiss you three times and then you shove me away, and when I ask you to marry me, you run behind the table. What did you let me kiss you for if you don't love me?"
"I couldn't help myself. You were so quick."
"You kissed me back, too. Don't forget that."
"It was a mistake, all a mistake. You don't love me."
"You don't know a thing about it. I do love you. And you love me, you know you do."
But by this time she had regained complete control of herself. "I don't know anything of the kind. Let's forget it."
As if he could forget the pressure of her soft lips! Why, for another such kiss he would cheerfully have fought a grizzly. For that's the kind of a kiss it was.