that unfortunate posture. "Didn't you just tell me I had been kind to you?"
"I said you had meant to be. There is a difference. You were kind in your own intention, and I would have liked to part with you letting you think that your intention made a real kindness. But you wouldn't have it like that; you are come to me hatefully, full of accusations in your mind, and so I am willing to tell you that some kindnesses can be torture."
"My kindness to you, I suppose you mean?"
"A thousand times I mean it!"
He had risen, too, and stood beside his chair, looking at her as she paced swiftly up and down the room. "I suppose you'll tell me why."
"Indeed I will." She came and faced him. "From the moment we began to go up into the mountains of Kabyle you assumed the attitude of an unwilling person who has been tricked into doing what he doesn't wish to do. Day after day you have kept that attitude. You would sit saying nothing at all, and always with that peevishness upon your face. Ah, yes, it was! Peevishness! And I was your guest; but you made me earn my way! I must entertain you; I must be always charming! I must
