The warm pressure made him uncomfortable, but not physically so—­and, apart from conscience, perhaps not altogether spiritually so.  For, after all, it’s a very sore young manly heart, indeed, that can refuse the solace, or distraction, offered in the close proximity of young womanhood of the Maggie sort and shape.  In other words, Macgregor may have been conscientiously afraid, but he had no disposition to run away.

About nine-thirty they came out.  While he looked a little dazed and defiant, she appeared entirely happy and self-possessed, with her hand in his arm as though he had belonged to her for quite a long time.  But at the gorgeous portals she stopped short with a cry of dismay.  It was raining heavily.

‘I’ve nae umburella,’ she said, piteously regarding her fine feathers.  ‘Ma things’ll be ruined.’

‘I’ll get ye a cab,’ he said after some hesitation induced less by consideration of the expense than by the sheer novelty of the proceeding.  Ere she could respond he was gone.  Not without trouble and a thorough drenching he discovered a decrepit four-wheeler.

Maggie had never been so proud as at the moment when he handed her in, awkwardly enough, but with a certain shy respectfulness which she found entirely delicious.

He gave the man the address, learned the fare, then came back to the door and handed the girl the necessary money.

‘Na!’ she cried in a panic, ‘I’ll no gang unless ye come wi’ me.  I—­I wud be feart to sit ma lane in the cab.  Come, lad; ye’ve plenty time.’

He had no more than enough, but he got in after telling the man to drive as quickly as possible.

‘Sit here,’ she said, patting the cushion at her side.

He obeyed, and then followed a long pause while the cab rattled over the granite.  She unpinned and removed her hat and leaned against him heavily yet softly.

‘Ye’re no sayin’ a great deal,’ she remarked at last.  ’What girl are ye thinkin’ aboot?’

‘Ach, I’m dashed wearit,’ he said.  ’I didna sleep a wink last nicht.’

‘Puir sojer laddie!’ Her smooth, hot cheek touched his.  ’Pit yer heid on ma shouther. . . .  I like ye because ye’re shy . . . but ye needna be ower shy.’

Suddenly he gave a foolish laugh and thrust his arm round her waist.  She heaved a sigh of content.

* * * * *

By making all haste Macgregor managed to get back to the camp in advance of Willie.  He was in bed, his eyes hard shut, when his friend appeared in the billet.

Willie, who was unusually flushed, bent over him and, sniggering, asked questions.  Getting no response, he retired grinning and winking at no one in particular.

Macgregor did not sleep well.  If you could have listened to his secret thoughts you would have heard, among other dreary things—­

‘But I didna kiss her; I didna kiss her.’