Keith slowly released her, and they both laughed breathlessly, with
brimming, glowing eyes. He took her hand, still smiling and watching her
face.

"Old silly," Keith murmured. "Aren't you an old silly! Eh?"

"So you say. You ought to know.... I suppose I am ..."

"But a nice old silly.... And a good old girl to come to-night."

"But then you _knew_ I should come," urged Jenny, drily, frowningly
regarding him.

"You can't forgive that, can you! You think I ought to have come
grovelling to you. It's not proper to ask you to come to me ... to
believe you might come ... to have everything ready in _case_ you might
come. Prude, Jenny! That's what you are."

"A prude wouldn't have come."

"That's all you know," said Keith, teasingly. "She'd have come--out of
curiosity; but she'd have made a fuss. That's what prudes are. That's
what they do."

"Well, I expect you know," Jenny admitted, sarcastically. The words
wounded her more than they wounded him. Where Keith laughed, Jenny
quivered. "You don't know what it means to me--" she began again, and
checked her too unguarded tongue.