"Helena, have I offended you?" he asked. "Why do you speak like that?"
Again she traversed a second's swift thought.
"Of course you haven't offended me," she said lightly. "You'll have to try harder than that if you want to offend me. My dear, do try again. Try to make me feel hurt."
Archie was a little excited. There was some small intimate contest going on, that affected him physically, with secret delight, just as he was affected in his limbs by some cross-current to the direction of his swimming, or in his brain by the tussle for the word he wanted when he was writing. He was sparring with something dear to him.
"Try to hurt me," she said softly.
"Very well," said he. "I'm glad you're going away to-morrow. Will that do?"
She laughed again.
"It would do excellently well if you meant it," she said. "But you don't mean it."
"You're very hard to please," said he.
"Not in the least. If you want to please me, say that you'll be very glad to see me again in a few weeks."
"I certainly shall, but I shan't say it. You know it quite well enough without my assurance."
She leaned forward a little.
"But say it all the same, Archie," she said. "Say it quite out loud."
Archie threw back his head and shouted at the stone-pine.
"I shall be very glad to see you again in—what was it?—in a few weeks," he cried.
"Ah, that is nice of you. No, I'm not sure that it's nice, because you've brought Jessie and Mr. Harry out into the garden."
That seemed to be the case, for undeniably the two moved out into the bright square of light cast from
