"Nothing!" he retorted stoutly. "Still, the door is open, and some one
might----"
"Why, _you're_ quite cold! ... Basil, what is it?"
"Nothing--nothing at all," replied he, his arms round her again, his
lips upon hers.
Presently she said: "I _thought_ you were neglecting me rather long.
It's a habit men have after--after a woman is entirely theirs."
"Don't say those things, even in joke," he begged, so seriously that it
jarred on her overwrought nerves.
"If you take that sort of remarks in earnest," said she, a trace of
resentment in her tone, "I'll be likely to believe there's something in
it."
"It was so--so frank," apologized he.
"Why not speak frankly?" said she. "One of the joys of loving you is
that we'll be entirely frank with each other. I'll never be afraid to
show you how much I love you, or to say whatever thought comes into my
mind. And you must feel that you can be your natural self always, can
speak out any thought you may have, no matter what it is. All that
doesn't mean much to you. But to me--" She drew a long, deep breath.
"You--a man--couldn't possibly know how delicious it is to a woman to be
able to be her--her naked self! ... You're not listening. You don't
hold me tightly. Are you shocked?"
"No," answered he with constraint. "I keep thinking of--of--that door."
She was silent, offended.
"I wasn't quite frank with you a moment ago."
"Already!" she sighed. Then, repentantly: "I know I'm silly. But it
means so much to me to feel that we--you and I--can stand before each
other, just as we are. Oh, I've hidden myself so long, Basil. Your
love--the great temptation of it was that it meant freedom. If I were
your wife, you'd expect all sorts of conventional things of me. If you
were my husband, I'd feel and you'd feel we had to live up to standards
and do customary things. As it is, our love's free--free!"
He was silent.
"Basil, don't you feel that way?"
"Yes, dear," he answered absently. "But--I must tell you. When I went
out--a while ago to look, I saw Nanny on the porch."
Even in that dimness he saw the terror in her face. "On the porch!" she
gasped. She sprang up. "Why didn't you tell me before?" she cried
angrily.
"I--I thought it might alarm you foolishly."
"I'm not a hysterical fool. Please don't forget that--again."
"Courtney!"
"Oh, forgive me--my love." When they had embraced: "Yes--I must go--at
once.... Why can't you come with me? Start as soon as you see I'm at
the door. But you mustn't cross the lawn. You must go round by the
shadows. It would be quite safe. You needn't go back to the shop."
"Impossible!"
She was silent, waiting for him to feel how hurt she was and to reassure
her. But he stood aloof, and presently asked in a constrained voice,
"How long will you be at your father's?"
"At my father's!" she exclaimed. "Why, I shall not go!"
"You must," he insisted. "You've made all the arrangements."
"You can send me away--_now_?"
"Please--dear. Don't be unreasonable. If you changed your plan
everybody'd think it strange."
"Everybody--who?"
"Nanny, for instance."
"Nanny? Why should I care what Nanny thinks? My first scare was
only--guilty conscience. Basil, why are you so queer--so absent
and--distant? Tell me--just what it is in your mind?"
She rested her hands pleadingly on his shoulders and looked up at him.
In her eyes, as in his, shone the fever of their delirium. He took her
hands, kissed her. "Don't be foolish," he said, trying to laugh. "I
guess I am a little bit unnerved."