She was looking straight at the moon.

Cass Beard felt his dignified reserve becoming very much like awkwardness.

He ought to be coldly polite.
"I hope you're not flustered, Miss, by the--by the"-- he began.
"I ?" She straightened herself up in the seat, cast a curious glance into the dark corner, and then, letting herself down again, said: "Oh dear, no!" Another five minutes elapsed.

She had evidently forgotten him.

She might, at least, have been civil.