"Now that's my
idea of the country!"
He stared at her vaguely.
"But--but that's no place for children," he protested. He had hardly
grown up at that moment, himself.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"It's not exactly necessary to have six children, you know," she
said, "and then you needn't be worried over a place for them, and
can afford to think a little about the place you'd like for
yourself."
The sun was in her eyes and she missed the look in his as he jumped
up from the astonished group and seized her wrist.
"Christine, you simply shan't talk that way!" he said. "I don't
know what's the matter with you to-day--why are you so different?
Are you trying to tease me? Because I might as well tell you right
now that you're succeeding a little too well."
The pink parasol dropped between them. Her eyes met his squarely,
though her voice shook a little.
"Let my wrist go, Mr. Armstrong," she said, "you hurt me. I assure
you I'm not different at all. If you really want to know what the
matter with me is, let me ask you if you saw anything out of the way
before your friends there interfered?" she pointed to the little
group he had left. "We seemed to be getting on very well then."
His face fell, and she went on more quickly and with less controlled
tones.
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