"You meant it."
"I did _not_! I tried to believe I meant it. I knew it wasn't true. I
knew it would anger you; that is why I said it."
"Then why are you afraid of me?"
"I?"
"Yes, you, Thusis."
"I am not. I am afraid of nobody.... Except ... myself."
She looked up at me again, flushed, lovely, and her gray eyes seemed
distressed.
"It's just myself, Don Michael," she said with a forced smile. "I seem
changed, different,--and it alarms me--scares me--to find myself capable
of behaving so--so imprudently--with you."
"Thusis!"
But she had passed me in a flash and I heard her light feet flying up
the stairs. I followed. She was at the top of the staircase, but heard
me and turned on the landing to look down.
"My behavior with you mortifies me!" she repeated in a hurried whisper.
"Why do you follow me, Michael?"
"Do you have to ask me, Thusis?"
"You mustn't ever again pursue me," she repeated in a low, breathless
voice.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because--possibly I couldn't run as fast as you can. Do you think I
would endure it to be overtaken? Do you suppose I could tolerate being
run down and caught? By _you_? Can't you comprehend that such a thing
is unthinkable?"
Again that slightest hint of contempt in her voice, not entirely
recognized yet vaguely divined.
I said slowly: "If I really understand, Thusis, then you need not worry.
Because I shall never again take a single step in the world to follow
you."
She seemed to consider this very deeply, standing on the landing and
looking down at me out of her beautiful and serious eyes.
"Suppose," she said, "that you do follow me--not very fast--just saunter
along--so that I need not run?"
She did not smile; neither did I.
"Would that be agreeable to you, Michael?"
"Would it be agreeable to you, Thusis?"
"Yes, it would.... _Please_ don't come upstairs! Does it give you any
pleasure to scare me and see me run?"