"Yes, I would—much."
"I couldn't, you see, any longer. I've been wanting to say it for six months. Besides, I think I'm the sort of fellow who's bound to have a thing like that out and see what comes of it—follow it to the end, you know."
She thought that he probably was; there lay the trouble. The thing itself was pleasant enough to her, but she did not want to follow it out. If only he would have left it where it was—under the surface, a pleasant sub-consciousness for them both, blending with their friendship a delightful sentiment! Dragged into the open like this, it was very hard to deal with.
"Can't you try and forget about it?" she whispered softly.
"Oh, my dear!" he muttered, laughing in a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
She understood something of what his tone and his laugh meant. She gave him a quick little nod of sympathy. "Is it as bad as that? Then my question was stupid," she seemed to say. But though she understood, she had no suggestion to offer. She sat with her brows furrowed and her lips pursed up, thoroughly outfaced by the difficulty.
"You go back home to-morrow, don't you?" he asked.
"Yes. And you?"
"In a few days. I've not quite finished my business. Do you want me to come to the house as usual?"
"Oh yes," she answered quickly, her brow clearing.