The man pulled up. I saw him ride away with that other fellow. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his feet fell lightly upon the pavement. She learned quickly, absorbing all she could as quickly as possible as her adoration grew for him. He recoiled from the sting. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew. She never forced the issue, it was their father’s job. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. It would put the whole adventure on a broader and better footing; it seemed, indeed, almost the only possible way in which she might emerge from her rebellion with anything like success.
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