THE SONG OF THE LARK
want to keep anything from you. The trouble is that I 've got nothing to keep—except (you know as well as I) that feeling. I told you about it in Chicago once. But it always makes me unhappy to talk about it. It will spoil the day. Will you go for a climb with me?" She held out her hands with a smile so eager that it made Ottenburg feel how much she needed to get away from herself.
He sprang up and caught the hands she put out so cordially, and stood swinging them back and forth. "I won't tease you. A word 's enough to me. But I love it, all the same. Understand?" He pressed her hands and dropped them. "Now, where are you going to drag me?"
"I want you to drag me. Over there, to the other houses. They are more interesting than these." She pointed across the gorge to the row of white houses in the other cliff. "The trail is broken away, but I got up there once. It 's possible. You have to go to the bottom of the canyon, cross the creek, and then go up hand-over-hand."
Ottenburg, lounging against the sunny wall, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, looked across at the distant dwellings. "It 's an awful climb," he sighed, "when I could be perfectly happy here with my pipe. However—" He took up his stick and hat and followed Thea down the water trail. "Do you climb this path every day? You surely earn your bath. I went down and had a look at your pool the other afternoon. Neat place, with all those little cottonwoods. Must be very becoming."
"Think so?" Thea said over her shoulder, as she swung round a turn.
"Yes, and so do you, evidently. I 'm becoming expert at reading your meaning in your back. I 'm behind you so much on these single-foot trails. You don't wear stays, do you?"
"Not here."
"I would n't, anywhere, if I were you. They will make you less elastic. The side muscles get flabby. If you go in
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