Chapter Five
A Different Sort of Kiss
Peewee sat on the breakwater beside the lake, awaiting her. The day was warm and bright with sun, but he had begun to think that he was to be disappointed. It was, he felt certain, almost four o'clock, and he had seen no sign yet of the limousine either on the drive or on the cross street. Then suddenly he looked up and saw her.
She had not come in the motor; she had come on foot. What was still more unusual, she was not strolling along the esplanade. She was coming from the direction of the drive, and, by her look, directly to him. He had a frightened sense of something new and extraordinary in her.
"Don't run away," she called to him across the grass.
Her smile checked his momentary panic.
