“Well, I would give that vine of yours a tree to clamber on and lift it off the ground.”
“And did you,” demanded Peg, eagerly. “The gods ruled otherwise,” I returned. “There was no tree to be near or possible for your vine; it must live and die on the ground.” Peg sat quite still and never a response. As I looked on her, somewhat with wonder, I concede, two great drops welled from her eyes and fell down upon her hands.
“Now I would like to hear,” said Peg at last, her voice in a twitter of pain, “does ever one get what one prays for in this world of ours? Would there be such a word as contentment, now? However, I am glad, watchdog, your good heart took you to my vine. But let it go; let it all go! Let us be friends; and if the day can't be for us all sunshine, let us own as few clouds as we may. Now, we will forget the past, and start our friendship out anew. We will bring nothing to remind us of days when I was young and cunning and you were old and dull.”
At this, I involuntarily looked for the mark of Peg's leopard tooth, where, round and white, it stared up at me from my hand.
“Ah, yes!” said Peg, softly, “I had forgotten. There is that sign between us that shall last through time. No, we can never forget.” Then, after musing a moment: “But we may change the subject and say the worst of it. You heard me lay out my reception purposes. What do you think of my plans?”
“Tell me first one thing,” said I. “When it was so much pleasure to behold me in grief for your absence, why, then, did you come back?” That speech of Peg's was like a dagger in my heart, and I would have her draw it out with some kindness of explanation. “Why did you come back, then?”
“The mere sorrow of it brought me back, watch-dog,” said Peg, and her words were music in my ear. “It came finally to where I would sooner suffer than have you suffer. That is the woman nature of me. The sheer truth is, I've been on my way back to you for days. When I followed you in the square, it was with a full purpose of taking your arm and walking with you as in the old time.”
“And why didn't you?”
“Just as I would have done so, I was caught up in a little swirl of hatred which carried me away from your side. It didn't last the moment, but by the time it was gone the chance had taken flight. There is one thing I should tell you, however; at such a time you must not palter with a woman.” Peg's tones were uplifted to the pitch severe. “Do you know what you should have done that day? You should have seized me by the shoulder as you did that spy who dogged us; you should have stopped me flush and full. Without excuse or explanation or pretense of remorse for what had been, you should have made me take your arm. You might have found, had you so willed it, that for all my high head I would follow you like a dog.”
“Take you by the shoulder!” cried I, somewhat aroused to a spirit of terror. “And that would have been polite, indeed, and the act of a true gentleman! I can see myself seizing you by the shoulder!”