We passed behind the tents, and a few steps brought us into shadow, and a few steps more to a bank under a hawthorn-hedge, where we sat down. I had nothing to say to her, and, as it did not seem to matter to Annie whether we talked or not, I pursued my own thoughts. She leaned up against me confidingly, but I was hardly more conscious of her presence than of the bank upon which I sat. I was thinking, and presently I put a question to her, put it perfectly seriously. “Suppose, Annie,” I began very deliberately,――“suppose you were friends with somebody――somebody like me, say. Suppose you knew he was very fond of you, and, one day, when you were alone together, without asking you if he might, he put his arms round you and kissed you――would you be very angry with him, so angry that you would never speak to him nor look at him again?” I kept my eyes fixed upon the ground as I awaited her reply, and I awaited it with some anxiety. It seemed to me a long while coming. All at once I felt two warm lips pressed against my cheek. I was so taken aback by the unexpected nature of this answer that I’m afraid I drew away from it. I understood that poor Annie had seen in my question only a somewhat timid method of courtship. It was distinctly awkward. She leaned her head sentimentally on my shoulder, and we sat in this absurd position for several minutes, while I had time to reflect on the hopeless inconsistency of feminine nature. As soon as I could, without hurting her feelings, I got up. “We must try the hobby-horses now,” I said, with feeble sprightliness, seizing on the only pretext I could think of to escape from a disagreeable situation.