THE SACRED FOUNT
"Are you really?" he asked and there was a touch of the comic in hearing him put it with his inveterate gravity.
"If you take me for anything else," I replied, "I doubt if you'll find anyone to back you."
My companion, on this, looked away for a little, turned about, fixed his eyes on the house, seemed, as with a drop of interest, on the point of leaving me. But instead of leaving me he brought out the next moment: "I don't want anyone to back me. I don't care. I didn't mean just now," he continued, "that Mrs. Server has said to me anything against you, or that she fears you because she dislikes you. She only told me she thought you disliked her."
It gave me a kind of shock. "A creature so beautiful, and so—so———"
"So what?" he asked as I found myself checked by my desire to come to her aid.
"Well, so brilliantly happy."
I had all his attention again. "Is that what she is?"
"Then don't you, with your opportunities, know?" I was conscious of rather an inspiration, a part of which was to be jocose. "What are you trying," I laughed, "to get out of me?"
It struck me luckily that, though he remained as proof against gaiety as ever, he was, thanks to his preoccupation, not disagreeably affected by my
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