She hesitated, somewhat disconcerted at Oak's old-fashioned earnest conclusion to a dialogue lightly carried on. `Very well,' she said, and gave him her hand, compressing her lips to a demure impassivity. He held it but an instant, and in his fear of being too demonstrative, swerved to the opposite extreme, touching her fingers with the lightness of a small-hearted person.
`I am sorry,' he said the instant after.
`What for?'
`Letting your hand go so quick.'
`You may have it again if you like; there it is.' She gave him her hand again.
Oak held it longer this time - indeed, curiously long. `How soft it is - being winter time, too - not chapped or rough, or anything!' he said.
`There - that's long enough,' said she, though without pulling it away. `But I suppose you are thinking you would like to kiss it? You may if you want to.
`I wasn't thinking of any such thing,' said Gabriel simply; `but I will--'
`That you won't!' She snatched back her hand.
Gabriel felt himself guilty of another want of tact.
`Now find out my name,' she said teasingly; and withdrew.