it seemed derisively. Valancy looked at him. Blue homespun shirt, nondescript hat, muddy overalls. Unshaved!

“Yes,” she said.

Barney put his hands over the gate and took her little, cold ones gently in his.

“Valancy,” he said, trying to speak lightly, “of course I’m not in love with you — never thought of such a thing as being in love. But, do you know, I’ve always thought you were a bit of a dear.”