Bunny kept calling him, but he closed his ears to her.
"No, I don't love you," she said slowly. "I love George."
But she had to look at him again to be sure. He was very beautiful and perplexed. Perhaps she loved everybody. For an instant she thought he was George; she could see now that there was a faint resemblance between them. Then she noticed that George was there too. He had come along the path from the stable. His face was sharpened with resolve. He paid no attention to Martin, but spoke directly to her.
"Here's your scarf," he said, almost roughly, holding it out. Then he remembered it was not hers, and thrust it in his pocket. He made an uncertain step toward her.
"Oh, we can't go on like this," he said harshly. "This has got to . . ." He made a queer awkward gesture with his arms. She went to them.
"How funny you are," observed Martin from the shadow. "First you want to push her away and then you hug her."
Apparently George did not hear him.
"Why did you wake me?" he was asking her.
