Ted shook his head at that.

"A man's to blame always," he asserted.

"No, he isn't," denied Madeline. "A girl's to blame always."

They stared at each other a moment while the brook tinkled through the
silence. Then they both laughed at the solemnity of their contradictions.

"But there isn't a bit of harm done," went on Madeline. "You see, I knew
that first night on the train that you were a gentleman."

"Some gentlemen are rotters," said Ted Holiday, with a wisdom beyond his
twenty years.

"But you are not."

"No, I'm not; but some other chap might be. That is why I wish you would
promise not to go in for this sort of thing."

"With anybody but you," she stipulated.

"Not with anybody at all," corrected Ted soberly, remembering his own
recent restrained impulse to put his arm around her.

"Well, I don't want to--at least not with anybody but you. I never did it
before with anybody. Honest, Ted, I never did."

"That's good. I felt sure that you hadn't."