"Not at
all," she answered, and took a quick step to one side. But before she
had taken it the sharp-eyed little lens of the camera had caught her,
her attitude at the instant one of action, the expression of her face
that of vivacious response. She flew out of range and before she could
speak the camera clicked again, this time the lens so obviously pointed
at the animals, and not at herself, that the intent of the operator
could not be called in question.
She looked at him with indignant suspicion, but his glance in return was
innocent, though his eyes sparkled.
"They'll make the prettiest kind of a picture, won't they?" he observed,
sliding the small black box back into its case. "I wish I had another
film; I'd take a lot of pictures about this place. I mean always to be
loaded, but November isn't usually the time for photographs, and I'd
forgotten all about it."
"If you find you have a picture of me on one of those shots I can trust
you not to keep it?"
"I may have caught you on that first shot. I'll bring it to you to see.
If your hat is tilted too much or you don't like your own expression--"
"I shall not like it, whatever it is.
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