let go the hand she extended, but kept it in his own as he sat down beside her.
The tinkle of many guitars now mingled with the sound of the river, and the air was sweet with the scents of spring and the incenselike odor of burning piñon. The village looked a corner of fairyland in the light of the luminous moon and the spell of the night was upon them both.
"I'm glad you could come."
"Are you—honest!"
"Honest."
"I wanted to come—I couldn't stay away to-night."
"Not even if you lost your job?" Nan had forgiven, perhaps, but not forgotten that.
"Don't!" It was a sore subject with him now.
They were silent for a time, but it was a silence as significant as words.
"I like you," he said at last, huskily, with an effort.
"Like me? Is that all?"
"A whole lot."
"I like a great many people a whole lot—
