They went to the far, secluded end of the garden, he asking and she answering questions about her father.
"What is it, Del ?" he said abruptly, at length.

"You act strained toward me." He did not say this until she had been oppressed almost into silence by the height and the thickness of the barrier between them.
"I guess it's because I've been shut in with father," she suggested.
"I've seen no one to talk to, except the family and the doctor, for weeks." And she tried to fix her mind on how handsome and attractive he was.

As a rebuke to her heart's obstinate lukewarmness she forced herself to lay her hand in his.
He held it loosely.

Her making this slight overture was enough to restore his sense of superiority; his resolve grew less unsteady.

"It's the first time," he went on, "that we've really had the chance to judge how we actually feel toward each other--that's what's the matter." His face--he was not looking at her--took on an expression of sad reproach.
"Del, I don't believe you--care.