The gray stones were already faintly messy where the water rippled and sparkled, and early birds were calling--robins and blackbirds and wrens.
"Baby mine," he said, "do you understand all about this?
Do you know exactly what you're doing when you come with me this way ?" "I think I do." She struck her boot and looked at the ground, and then up through the trees at the blue sky.
"Look at me, honey." "I don't want to." "But look at me, sweet.

I want to ask you something." "Don't make me, Frank, please.

I can't." "Oh yes, you can look at me." "No." She backed away as he took her hands, but came forward again, easily enough.
"Now look in my eyes." "I can't." "See here." "I can't.

Don't ask me.

I'll answer you, but don't make me look at you." His hand stole to her cheek and fondled it.