"Or to pick wild flowers?"

"I hate--" Judy had started her usual ungracious formula, before she
recognized its untruth. "Well, I don't want to pick them now," she
amended, "I'd rather stay here."

"But you are not going to stay here."

"Why not?"

"You are going to help me cook those fish."

"I won't."

"Oh, yes you will. Come on."

"Oh, well. If you won't let me alone."

She slipped out of the hammock and picked up her hat. There was a
tired droop to her slender young figure. "No, I am not going to let
you alone," said Launcelot quietly. "You poor little thing."

She looked at him, startled.

"Why?" she breathed.

"You are lonely. That's why. You've got to do something. You just
think and think and think--and get miserable--I know--I've been there."