"Don't be silly," I whispered.
At that she straightened up with a breathless little laugh and sat
looking at me.
"You knew where I stood," said I. "Why practice deception?"
"Yes," said she, "you are practically Yankee."
"So is that Viking, Smith."
"I know. And the Yankees are at war."
"They are, God bless them."
"God bless them," she said; and her face grew very still and serious.
After a silence: "There is a common ground," she said, "on which we both
may stand. And that is no-man's land. To redeem it I am long since
enlisted in the crusade.... Your heart, Monsieur, is enlisted too....
I knew that.... Else I had never trusted you."
"How did you know?"
She shrugged: "Long ago we had all necessary information concerning you
and your Viking friend. Yet for all that it was not prudent for me to so
carelessly reveal myself to you.... But when I saw you--" she laughed
mischievously--"as I have admitted, already, you inspired me to
indiscreet behavior. And I didn't resist--knowing you to be safe."
"Safe?"
"Certainly. And so I permitted myself to relax--a little."
"In the cellar?"
"Yes.... And I nearly paid for it, didn't I?"
"I ought to have kissed you," said I with sulky conviction.
"Do you think so?"
"I'm sorry I didn't."
"I'm sorry, too." She sprang to her feet, laughing and scared: "Wait!
Listen. I'm sorry only because it was the only moment that ever could
have happened in my life when I might have submitted to that simple and
bourgeoise experience known as being kissed. Now it can never happen
again, Don Michael. And I shall journey, unsaluted, to my virgin tomb."
She lifted her gray eyes sparkling with malice:
"Because a young man was too timid to offer me the curious and unique
experience of being kissed, I must expire, eventually, in total
ignorance of that interesting process."
Her face changed subtly as I started to my feet, and something in the
beautiful altered features halted me.
After a moment's silence: "It's perfectly rotten of me," she said
slowly. "But you, also, seem to realize that it can't happen."
"You mean it can't happen without forfeiting your friendship, Thusis?"
"Without incurring my hatred," she said in a curiously still voice, her
eyes as cold as grayest ice. "Do it, if you like," she added. "I
deserve it. But I shall hate myself and detest you.... Is it worth it?
Seriously, Mr. O'Ryan, is your revenge worth my deepest enmity?"
I shrugged. "Thusis," said I pleasantly, "you take yourself very
seriously. Don't you?"
"Don't _you_!" she demanded, flushing.
"I'm sorry, but I really can't." And I lighted a cigarette and picked
up my fishing-rod.
"You ask me," I continued, switching my flies out over the water,
"whether the possibly interesting operation of kissing you would be
worth your cataclysmic resentment. How can I guess? It might not even
be worth the effort involved--on my part. To be frank, Thusis, I'm not
at all convinced that you'd be worth kissing."
"Is that your opinion?" inquired the girl, nibbling at her under lip and
regarding me out of eyes that darkled and sparkled with something or
other I could not quite define.
"That is my opinion," said I pleasantly. "Besides, I have a photograph
on my dresser which if chastely and respectfully saluted, would, no
doubt, prove quite as responsive to a casual caress as would you. And
without any disagreeable results."
"Do you do _that_?" she asked, coloring brightly to the temples, her
teeth still busy with her lip.
"I don't always make a practice of doing it."
"Have you _ever_ done it?"
"I haven't happened to."
"Do you intend to?"
"What's the matter with you, Thusis?" I retorted impatiently. "Does it
concern you what I do to that picture?"
"Yes, it does," she retorted, turning deeply pink.
"In what way?"
"You say the photograph of the Laughing Girl resembles me. And if you
are under that impression I do not wish you to take liberties with it.
You have no right to--to kiss a picture because you think it looks
like--like somebody you don't dare kiss!"
Her flushed audacity was irritating me.
"Don't dare kiss you?" I repeated, switching my rod about in my
increasing exasperation. "You'd better not repeat that, Thusis!"
Her flushed features quivered, then suddenly her eyes were full of
little devils all mocking me.
"I do repeat it," she said. "You dare not!"
At the same instant my hook caught in a branch; I gave it a furious
jerk; crack!--my rod broke at the second joint. And the clear laughter
of Thusis rang out uncontrolled.
"Alas," said she, "this nice young man is violently offended at
something or other."
An unfeigned damn escaped me.
"Mea culpa!" she exclaimed, breathless with laughter. "Mea maxima
culpa! This exceedingly nice young man is dreadfully offended."
Mad all through, I picked up the wreck of my rod and stood silent,
mechanically fitting together the splintered ends of the second joint.
Presently I was aware that she had come up behind me.
"I'm a beast," she said in a small, weak voice.