nd, if you'll let me. It's good
for hornet stings----"

She laughed and backed away: "Do you believe there is any virtue in mud,
Delancy?--good, deep mire--when one is bruised and sore and lonely and
desperate? Oh, don't try to understand--what a funny, confused, stupid
way you have of looking at me! I remember you used to look at me that
way sometimes--oh, long ago--before I was married, I think."

The heavy colour which surged so readily to his temples began to amuse
her; she leaned back against the bridge rail and contemplated him with
smiling disdain.

"Do you know," she said, "years ago, I had a slight, healthy suspicion
that you were on the verge of falling in love with me."

He tried to smile, but the colour died out in his face.

"Yes, I was on the verge," he contrived to answer.

"Why didn't you fall over?"

"I suppose it was because you married Jack Dysart," he said simply.

"Was _that_ all?"

"All?" He thought he perceived the jest, and managed to laugh again.

"Really, I am perfectly serious," repeated Rosalie. "Was that all that
prevented you from falling in love with me--because I was married?"

"I think so," he said. "Wasn't it reason enough?"

"I didn't know it was enough for a man. I don't believe I know exactly
how men consider such matters.... You've managed to hook that fly into
my gown again! And now you've torn the skirt hopelessly! What a
devastating sort of creature you are, Delancy! You used to step on my
slippers at dancing school, and, oh, Heaven! how I hated you.... Where
are you going?" for he had begun to walk away, reeling in his wet line
as he moved, his grave, highly coloured face lowered, troubled eyes
intent on what he was doing.

When she spoke, he halted and raised his head, and she saw the muscles
flexed under the bronze skin of the jaw--saw the lines of pain appear
where his mouth tightened. All of the clumsy boy in him had vanished;
she had never troubled herself to look at him very closely, and it
surprised her to see how worn his face really was under the eyes and
cheek-bones--really surprised her that there was much of dignity, even
of a certain nobility, in his quiet gaze.

"I asked you where you are going?" she repeated with a faint smile.

"Nowhere in particular."

"But you are going _somewhere_, I suppose."

"I suppose so."

"In my direction?"

"I think not."

"That is very rude of you, Delancy--when you don't even know where my
direction lies. Do