“Come on, come on, Gerda,” said Wolf peevishly, stretching out his hand, in his turn, and trying to seize her fingers. “We mustn’t stay here like this. We shall be attracting attention soon. Come on; let’s go back to the field.”

His glance wandered from one to the other of these two figures who held his peace of mind so completely in their power. He could not shake off the profound inertia that had fallen upon him.

“But we must go back,” he murmured helplessly. “Come along, Gerda. Please do stop saying these things.”

His voice sounded in his own ears puerile, feeble, futile. It sounded like the petulance of a child, outraged and astonished by the tenacious obstinacy of grown-up people.