"
She permitted him to lead her to the hammock, and pile three
cushions behind her head and shoulders--with the dark-blue one on
top because her hair looked well against it--and dispose himself
comfortably where he could look his fill at her while he swung
the hammock gently with his boot-heel, scraping a furrow in the
sand. But she did not show any dimples, though his eyes and his
lips smiled together when she looked at him, and when he took up
her hand and kissed each finger-tip in turn, she was as passive
as a doll under the caresses of a child.
"What's the matter?" he demanded, when he found that her manner
did not soften. "Worrying still about what that old squaw said?"
"Not in the slightest." Evadna's tone was perfectly
polite--which was a bad sign.
Good Indian thought he saw the makings of a quarrel in her
general attitude, and he thought he might as well get at once to
the real root of her resentment.
"What are you thinking about? Tell me, Goldilocks," he coaxed,
pushing his own troubles to the back of his mind.
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