He jerked his head aside, his mouth set grimly, and crossed quickly to the other bank of the river.
As he let her slip to the ground, steadying her with his arms about her, he bent swiftly and for an instant his lips just brushed her hair.
Nan scarcely felt the touch of his kiss, it fell so lightly, but she sensed it through every nerve of her.

Standing in the twilight, shaken and clutching wildly after her self-control, she knew that if he touched her again or took her in his arms, she would yield helplessly--gladly! Peter knew it, too, knew that the merest thread of courage and self-respect kept them apart.

His arms strained at his sides.

Forcing his voice to an impersonal, level tone, he said practically: "It's getting late.

Come on, little pal, we must make up time, or they'll be sending out a search party for us from Mallow." It was late in the evening before Nan and Peter found themselves alone together again.