That was Kathleen's point of view, and it must have coincided somewhat with Mr. Anderson's.
"Kathleen, you wouldn't have me be a slacker?" asked Dorn, gently.
"No. But we let Jim go," was her argument.
Dorn kissed her, then turned to Lenore. "Let's go out to the fields."
It was not a long walk to the alfalfa, but by the time she got there Lenore's impending woe was as if it had never been. Dorn seemed strangely gay and unusually demonstrative; apparently he forgot the war-cloud in the joy of the hour. That they were walking in the open seemed not to matter to him.
"Kurt, some one will see you," Lenore remonstrated.
"You're more beautiful than ever to-day," he said, by way of answer, and tried to block her way.
Lenore dodged and ran. She was fleet, and eluded him down the lane, across the cut field, to a huge square stack of baled alfalfa. But he caught her just as she got behind its welcome covert. Lenore was far less afraid of him than of laughing eyes. Breathless, she backed up against the stack.
"You're—a—cannibal!" she panted. But she did not make much resistance.