Oyvind, the whole evening, but I have had no chance to give them to you
before."

She drew forth some apples, a slice of a cake from town, and a little
half pint bottle, which she thrust into his hand, and said he might
keep. Oyvind took them.

"Thank you!" said he, holding out his hand; hers was warm, and he
dropped it at once as if it had burned him.

"You have danced a good deal this evening," he murmured.

"Yes, I have," she replied, "but _you_ have not danced much," she
added.

"I have not," he rejoined.

"Why did you not dance?"

"Oh"--

"Oyvind!"

"Yes."

"Why did you sit looking at me so?"

"Oh--Marit!"

"What!"