Don't you feel bad, William.

That's all I care about.

Don't you feel bad; nobody is going to think any less of you.
I don't; I think more." William looked down at her; there was a hesitating appeal in his face, as in that of a hurt child.

Suddenly Rebecca raised both her arms and put them around his neck; he leaned his cheek down against her soft hair.

"Poor William," she whispered, as if he had been her child instead of her lover.
A girl in the merry party speeding along at the foot of the hill glanced around just then; she turned again, blushing hotly, and touched a girl near her, who also glanced around.